/1834 


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FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Sect'  : 


POEMS      (^  SEP  24 1936 

TRANSLATED     FROM     THE     FREN 


MADAME    DE   LA   MOTHE   GUION, 

BY    THE     LATE 

WILLIAM  COWPER,  ESQ., 

AUTHOR    OF    THE    TASK. 


TO   WHICH   ARE   ADDED 


SOME  ORIGINAL  POEMS  OF  MR.  COWPER. 


NOT    INSERTED    IN    HIS  WORKS. 


AND  ALSO,  ANNEXED 
A 

WREATH  OF  FORGET-ME-NOT 

PRESENTED 

TO  THOSE  WHO  LOVE  TO  REFLECT 


HEAVENLY    THINGS 


NEW-YORK: 

MAHLON      DAY,      374      PEARL-STREET 

MDCCCXXXIV. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/poemstrfOOguyo 


PREFACE 


IT  seems  needless,  if  not  impertinent,  in  an  obscure  in- 
dividual, to  say  any  thing  in  praise  of  the  Author  of  the 
Task.  It  is  of  more  consequence  to  inform  the  reader  of 
the  circumstances  that  have  led  to  this  publication.  About 
twenty  years  ago  a  very  dear  and  venerable  friend*  introduc- 
ed me  to  the  truly  great  and  amiable  Mr.  Cowper.  This 
gave  rise  to  a  friendship  which  increased  with  every  repeat- 
ed interview,  and  for  several  years  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
spending  an  afternoon  with  him  every  week.  At  length  this 
delightful  intercourse  was  terminated,  by  his  removal  to  a 
distant  situation,  and  the  painful  approaches  of  that  event 
which  dissolves  every  social  connexion. 

One  day  amusing  myself  with  the  poetical  works  of  the 
celebrated  Madame  Guion,  I  was  struck  with  the  peculiar 
beauty  of  some  of  her  poems,  as  well  as  edified  with  the 
piety  and  devotion  of  which  they  are  strongly  expressive. 
I  mentioned  them  to  Mr.  C  ;  and  partly  to  amuse  a  solitary 
hour,  partly  to  keep  in  exercise  the  genius  of  this  incompar- 
able man,  I  requested  him  to  put  a  few  of  the  poems  into  an 
English  dress.  Afterward,  during  my  absence  upon  a  jour- 
ney, I  received  a  letter,  in  which  Mr.  C.  says,  "  I  have  but 
little  leisure,  strange  as  it  may  seem.  That  little  I  devoted 
for  a  month  after  your  departure  to  the  translation  of  Mad- 
ame Guion.  I  have  made  fair  copies  of  all  the  pieces  I  have 
produced  on  this  last  occasion,  and  will  put  them  into  your 

*  The  Rev  John  Newton,  Rector  of  St.  Mary's,  Woolnoth,  London. 


IV  PREFACE 

hands  when  we  meet.  They  are  yours  to  serve  as  you  please, 
you  may  take  and  leave  as  you  like,  for  my  purpose  is  al- 
ready served.  They  have  amused  me,  and  I  have  no  further 
demand  upon  them."  On  my  return,  Mr.  C.  presented  me 
with  these  translations,  to  which  he  added  the  letter  to  a 
Protestant  Lady  in  France,  and  the  Poem  on  Friendship. 

The  idea  of  printing  them  was  afterwards  suggested  to 
Mr.  C.  and  he  gave  his  full  consent,  intending  to  revise  them 
before  I  should  send  them  to  press.  Various  circumstances 
prevented  him  from  doing  this  ;  and  the  poems  would  prob- 
ably have  still  remained  unpublished,  if  it  had  not  been  found 
that  several  copies  of  them  had  already  got  abroad.  The 
Editor  therefore  had  reason  to  believe,  that  they  would  oth- 
erwise have  made  their  appearance  in  a  state  far  less  correct 
than  if  printed  from  the  original  manuscript.  Nor  can  he 
imagine  that  even  in  their  present  form,  they  will,  on  the 
whole,  tend  to  diminish  the  well-deserved  reputation  of  their 
excellent  Author. 

To  infer  that  the  peculiarities  of  Madame  Guion's  theo- 
logical sentiments,  were  adopted  either  by  Mr.  C.  or  by  the 
Editor,  would  be  almost  as  absurd  as  to  suppose  t2ie  inimit- 
able translator  of  Homer  to  have  been  a  pagan.  He  rever- 
enced her  piety,  admired  her  genius,  and  judged  that  several 
of  her  poems  would  be  read  with  pleasure  and  edification  by 
serious  and  candid  persons. 

I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  add  the  Stanzas  subjoined  to 
the  Bills  of  Mortality,  which  had  been  published  a  few  years 
past  at  Northampton  ;  and  the  Epitaph,  which  had  appeared 
in  a  periodical  publication.  They  sufficiently  mark  the 
genius  of  their  Author,  correspond  with  the  other  parts  of 
this  small  volume,  and  have  not  before  been  printed  in  a 
uniform  manner  with  his  poems. 

WILLIAM  BULL. 

KEWPORT-PAGNEL, 

6th  June,  1801. 


CONTENTS 


THE  Nativity        ------- 

God  neither  known  nor  lover1  by  the  world 

The  Swallow  ------- 

The  Triumph  of  Heavenly  Love  desired      - 
A  figurative  description  of  the  procedure  of  Divine 
Love  in  bringing  a  soul  to  the  point  of  self-renunci- 
ation and  absolute  acquiesence     -        _         -        - 
A  child  of  God  longing  to  see  him  beloved     - 
Aspirations  of  the  soul  after  God     - 
Gratitude  and  Love  to  God 
Happy  Solitude — Unhappy  men       -         -         -        - 

Living  water      -------- 

Truth  and  Divine  Love  rejected  by  the  world  - 

Divine  Justice  amiable        - 

The  Soul  that  loves  God  finds  him  every  where 

The  testimony  of  Divine  adoption 

Divine  Love  endures  no  rival  -        -        - 

Self-diffidence  -         -         -         -         - 

The  acquiesence  of  pure  Love         - 

Repose  in  God  - 

Glory  to  God  alone  - 

Self-love  and  Truth  incompatible 

The  Love  of  God  the  end  of  Life 

Love  faithful  in  the  absence  of  the  beloved 

Love  pure  and  fervent     - 

The  entire  surrender  • 

The  perfect  sacrifice       - 


Pa?e. 

9 
16 
18 
19 


19 
22 
24 
25 
27 
27 
28 
29 
30 
32 
33 
35 
36 
37 
38 
40 
41 
42 
42 
43 
44 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Pago. 

God  hides  his  people  -.-..-    44 

The  secrets  of  Divine  Love  are  to  be  kept  46 

The  vicissitudes  experienced  in  the  Christian  life        -    51 
Watching  unto  God  in  the  night  season  56 

On  the  same 58 

On  the  same  -----         --60 

The  joy  of  the  Cross         ------    62 

Joy  in  Martyrdom  ------        65 

Simple  trust       --------66 

The  necessity  of  self-abasement  67 

Love  increased  by  suffering        -  -     69 

Scenes  favorable  to  meditation  71 


ORIGINAL  POEMS. 


An  Epistle  to  a  Protestant  Lady  in  France      -        -  77 

Friendship         --------  79 

Stanzas  subjoined  to  a  Bill  of  Mortality  for  the  year 

1787           _-._--.-  87 

The  same  for  1788    -------  89 

The  same  for  1789          ------  90 

The  same  for  1790    -------  92 

The  same  for  1792          ------  94 

The  same  for  1793    -------  96 

An  Epitaph    --------  98 


CONTENTS.  Vli 

A  WREATH   OF   FORGET-ME-NOT. 


Page- 

The  Spring 101 

Blossom  and  fruit 101 

The  Lamb 102 

Spiritual  food 102 

The  flowers            102 

Divine  love 103 

The  shepherd 103 

Why  so  proud ! 103 

The  hidden  life 104 

The  sunbeam 104 

The  hermit 104 

A  pilgrim's  thought 105 

The  cell 105 

Good  out  of  evil 106 

The  serpent 106 

Selfwill 107 

Mother  and  child 107 

Submission 107 

The  refuge 108 

The  gospel 103 

Always  preparing 103 

Rich  and  poor 109 

Ever  at  home                  1        .        :        .        .        .  109 

Tears  of  joy  and  sorrow 109 

Daily  bread             110 

The  hidden  spark 110 

The  blessed  cros9 Ill 

Sincerity            .......        l  Ill 

Resignation Ill 

Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow        .        .        .        .112 


VU1 


CONTENTS 


Constant  prayer    . 

The  inner  temple 

Golgotha 

Run  and  be  not  weary 

The  broken  will      . 

Ingratitude 

Trust  and  follow 

Nature  and  grace 

The  value  of  time 

Come  as  thou  art 

Simplicity 

Duty  of  the  day 

Vicissitude 

The  abyss 

The  senses     . 

Self-activity 

The  Sinner     . 

Good  counsel     . 

Letter  and  spirit 

Ever  pursuing 

Time  and  eternity 

The  warfare 

Eventide 

Self-love 

Gospel  light 

The  cross 

Joy  and  sorrow 

The  shepherd  and  the  sheep 

The  oppressed 

The  school 

Love  thy  neighbor 

The  Saviour's  voice 

The  way  to  conquer 

The  Farewell     . 


Page. 

112 


THE  NATIVITY. 

POEME      HEROIQUE, 

Vol  4,    §  4. 

TIS  Folly  all— let  me  no  more  be  told 
Of  Parian  porticos,  and  roofs  of  gold  ; 
Delightful  views  of  Nature  dress'd  by  Art, 
Enchant  no  longer  this  indiff'rent  heart ; 
The  Lord  of  all  things,  in  his  humble  birth, 
Makes  mean  the  proud  magnificence  of  earth  ; 
The  straw,  the  manger,  and  the  mould'ring  wall, 
Eclipse  its  lustre  ;  and  I  scorn  it  all. 

Canals,  and  fountains,  and  delicious  vales, 
Green  slopes,  and  plains  whose  plenty  never  fails  , 
Deep  rooted  groves,  whose  heads  sublimely  rise, 
Earth-born,  and  yet  ambitious  of  the  skies  ; 
Th'  abundant  foliage  of  whose  gloomy  shades, 
Vainly  the  sun  in  all  its  pow'r  invades  ; 
Where  warbled  airs  «of  sprightly  birds  resound  ; 
Whose  verdure  lives  while  winter  scowls  around  ; 
Rocks,  lofty  mountains,  caverns  dark  and  deep, 
And  torrents  raving  down  the  rugged  steep  ; 
Smooth  downs,  whose  fragant  herbs  the  spirits  cheer, 
Meads,  Cfewn'd  with  flow'rs  ;  streams  musical  and  clear, 

1 


10  THE    NATIVITY. 

Whose  silver  waters,  and  whose  murmurs,  join 
Their  artless  charms,  to  make  the  scene  divine ; 
The  fruitful  vineyard,  and  the  furrowed  plain, 
That  seems  a  rolling  sea  of  golden  grain  ; 
All,  all  have  lost  the  charms  they  once  possess'd ; 
An  infant  God  reigns  sov'reign  in  my  breast ; 
From  Bethl'em's  bosom  I  no  more  will  rove  ; 
There  dwells  the  Saviour,  and  there  rests  my  love. 

Ye  mightier  rivers,  that  with  sounding  force 
Urge  down  the  valleys  your  impetuous  course  ! 
Winds, clouds, and  lightnings !  and  ye  waves,whoseheads^ 
Curl'd  into  monstrous  forms,  the  seaman  dreads  ! 
Horrid  abyss,  where  all  experience  fails, 
Spread  with  the  wreck  of  planks  and  shattered  sails  ; 
On  whose  broad  back  grim  Death  triumphant  rides, 
While  havoc  floats  on  all  thy  swelling  tides, 
Thy  shores  a  scene  of  ruin,  strew'd  around 
With  vessels  bulg'd,  and  bodies  of  the  drown'd  ! 

Ye  Fish,  that  sport  beneath  the  boundless  waves, 
And  rest,  secure  from  man,  in  rocky  caves  ; 
Swift  darting  sharks,  and  whales  of  hideous  size, 
Whom  all  th'  aquatic  world  with  terror  eyes  ! 
Had  I  but  Faith  immoveable  and  true, 
I  might  defy  the  fiercest  storm,  like  you ; 
The  world,  a  more  disturb'd  and  boist'rous  sea, 
When  Jesus  shows  a  smile,  affrights  not  me  : 
He  hides  me,  and  in  vain  the  billows  roar, 
Break  harmless  at  my  feet,  and  leave  the  shore. 


THE    NATIVITY.  11 

Thou  azure  vault,  where,  through  the  gloom  of  night, 
Thick  sown,  we  see  such  countless  worlds  of  light  1 
Thou  Moon,  whose  car,  encompassing  the  skies, 
Restores  lost  nature  to  our  wond'iing  eyes  ; 
Again  retiring,  when  the  brighter  Sun 
Begins  the  course  he  seems  in  haste  to  run  ! 
Behold  him  where  he  shines  !  His  rapid  rays, 
Themselves  unmeasur'd,  measure  all  our  days  ; 
Nothing  impedes  the  race  he  would  pursue, 
Nothing  escapes  his  penetrating  view, 
A  thousand  lands  confess  his  quick'ning  heat, 
And  all  he  cheers,  are  fruitful,  fair,  and  sweet. 

Far  from  enjoying  what  these  scenes  disclose, 
I  feel  the  thorn,  alas  !  but  miss  the  rose  ; 
Too  well  I  know  this  aching  heart  requires 
More  solid  good  to  fill  its  vast  desires  ; 

vain  they  represent  His  matchless  might 
Who  call'd  them  out  of  deep  primaeval  night ; 
Their  form  and  beauty  but  augment  my  woe  ; 
I  seek  the  Giver  of  the  charms  they  show  ; 
Nor,  Him  beside,  throughout  the  world  he  made, 
Lives  there,  in  whom  I  trust  for  cure  or  aid. 

Infinite  God,  thou  great  unrivall'd  One, 
Whose  glory  makes  a  blot  of  yonder  sun  ; 
Compai'd  with  thine,  how  dim  his  beauty  seems, 
How  quench' d  the  radiance  of  his  golden  beams  ! 
Thou  art  my  bliss,  the  light  by  which  I  move  ; 
In  thee  alone  dwells  all  that  I  can  love  ; 


12  THE    NATIVITY. 

All  darkness  flies  when  thou  art  pleas'd  t'  appear, 

A  sudden  spring  renews  the  fading  year ; 

Where  e'er  I  turn,  I  see  thy  power  and  grace 

The  watchful  guardians  of  our  heedless  race  ; 

Thy  various  creatures  in  one  strain  agree, 

All,  in  all  times  and  places,  speak  of  thee ; 

Ev'n  I.  with  trembling  heart  and  stammering  tongue, 

Attempt  thy  praise,  and  join  the  gen'ral  song. 

Almighty  Former  of  this  wondrous  plan, 
Faintly  reflected  in  thine  image,  man — 
Hoty  and  just — the  Greatness  of  whose  name 
Fills  and  supports  this  universal  frame, 
DiffWd  throughout  th'  infinitude  of  space, 
Who  art  thyself  thine  own  vast  dwelling-place  ; 
Soul  of  our  soul,  whom  yet  no  sense  of  ours 
Discerns,  eluding  our  most  active  pow'rs  ; 
Encircling  shades  attend  thine  awful  throne, 
That  veil  thy  face,  and  keep  thee  still  unknown  ; 
Unknown,  though  dwelling  in  our  inmost  part, 
Lord  of  the  thoughts,  and  Sov'reign  of  the  heart ! 

Repeat  the  charming  truth  that  never  tires, 
No  God  is  like  the  God  my  soul  desires  ; 
He  at  whose  voice  Heav'n  trembles,  ev'n  He, 
Great  as  he  is,  knows  how  to  stoop  to  me — 
Lo  !  there  he  lies — that  smiling  Infant  said, 
«'  Heav'n,  Earth,  and  Sea,  exist !"  and  they  obey'd. 
Ev'n  He  whose  Being  swells  beyond  the  skies, 
Is  born  of  woman,  lives,  and  mourns,  and  dies  ; 


THE    NATIVITY.  13 

Eternal  and  Immortal,  seems  to  cast 
That  glory  from  his  brows,  and  breathes  his  last. 
Trivial  and  vain  the  works  that  man  has  wrought, 
How  do  they  shrink,  and  vanish  at  the  thought. 

Sweet  Solitude,  and  scene  of  my  repose  ! 
This  rustic  sight  assuages  all  my  woes — 
That  crib  contains  the  Lord  whom  I  adore  ; 
And  Earth's  a  shade,  that  I  pursue  no  more. 
He  is  my  firm  support,  my  rock,  my  tow'r, 
I  dwell  secure  beneath  his  shelt'ring  pow'r, 
And  hold  this  mean  retreat  for  ever  dear, 
For  all  I  love,  my  soul's  delight  is  here. 
I  see  th'  Almighty  swath'd  in  infant  bands, 
Tied  helpless  down,  th3  Thunder-bearer's  hands  ! 
And  in  this  shed,  that  mystery  discern, 
Which  faith  and  love,  and  they  alone,  can  learn. 

Ye  tempests,  spare  the  slumbers  of  your  Lord  ! 
Ye  zephyrs,  all  your  whisper'd  sweets  afford  ! 
Confess  the  God  that  guides  the  roiling  year ; 
Heav'n,  do  him  homage  ;  and  thou  Earth,  revere  ! 
Ye  Shepherd's,  Monarchs,  Sages,  hither  bring 
Your  hearts  an  offering,  and  adore  your  King ! 
Pure  be  those  hearts,  and  rich  in  Faith  and  Love  ; 
Join,  in  his  praise,  th'  harmonious  worlds  above  ; 
To  Beth'lem  haste,  rejoice  in  his  repose, 
And  praise  him  there  for  all  that  he  bestows  ! 

Man,  busy  Man,  alas  !  can  ill  afford 

T'  obey  the  summons,  and  attend  the  Lord  ; 

1* 


14  THE    NATIVITY. 

Perverted  reason  revels  and  runs  wild, 

By  glitt'ring  shows  of  pomp  and  wealth  beguil'd  ; 

And  blind  to  genuine  excellence  and  grace, 

Finds  not  her  Author  in  so  mean  a  place. 

Ye  unbelieving  !  learn  a  wiser  part, 

Distrust  your  erring  sense,  and  search  your  heart ; 

There,  soon  3<e  shall  perceive  a  kindling  flame 

Glow  for  that  Infant  God  from  whom  it  came  : 

Resist  not,  quench  not  that  divine  desire, 

Melt  all  your  adamant  in  heav'nly  fire  ! 

Not  so  will  I  requite  thee,  gentle  Love  ! 
Yielding  and  soft  this  heart  shall  ever  prove  ; 
And  ev'ry  heart,  beneath  thy  pow'r  should  fall. 
Glad  to  submit,  could  mine  contain  them  all. 
But  I  am  poor,  oblation  I  have  none, 
None  for  a  Saviour,  but  Himself  alone  : 
Whate'er  I  render  ihee,  from  thee  it  came  ; 
And  if  I  give  my  body  to  the  flame, 
My  patience,  love,  and  energy  divine 
Of  heart,  and  soul,  and  spirit,  all  are  thine. 
Ah  vain  attempt,  t'  expunge  the  mighty  score  ! 
The  more  I  pay,  I  owe  thee  still  the  more. 

Upon  my  meanness,  poverty,  and  guilt, 
The  trophy  of  thy  glory  shall  be  built ; 
My  self-disdain  shall  be  th'  unshaken  base, 
And  my  deformity,  its  fairest  grace  ; 
For  destitute  of  Good,  and  rich  in  111, 
Must  be  my  state,  and  my  description  still. 


THE    NATIVITY.  15 

And  do  I  grieve  at  such  a  humbling  lot  1 
Nay,  but  I  cherish  and  enjoy  the  thought — 
Vain  pageantry  and  pomp  of  Earth,  adieu  ! 
I  have  nu  wish,  no  memory  for  you  ; 
The  more  I  feel  my  mis'ry,  I  adore 
The  sacred  Inmate  of  my  soul  the  more  : 
Rich  in  His  Love,  I  feel  my  noblest  pride 
Spring  from  the  sense  of  having  nought  beside. 

In  Thee  I  find  wealth,  comfort,  virtue,  might ; 
My  wand'rings  prove  thy  wisdom  infinite  ; 
All  that  I  have,  I  give  thee  ;  and  then  see 
All  contrarieties  unite  in  thee  ; 
For  thou  hast  join'd  them,  taking  up  our  woe, 
And  pouring  out  thy  bliss  on  worms  below, 
By  filling  with  thy  grace  and  love  divine 
A  gulph  of  evil  in  this  heart  of  mine. 
This  is  indeed  to  bid  the  valleys  rise, 
And  the  hills  sink — 'tis  matching  earth  and  skies  ! 
I  feel  my  weakness,  thank  thee,  and  deplore 
An  aching  heart  that  throbs  to  thank  thee  more  ; 
The  more  I  love  thee,  I  the  more  reprove 
A  soul  so  lifeless,  and  so  slow  to  love  ; 
Till,  on  a  deluge  of  thy  mercy  toss'd, 
I  plunge  into  that  sea,  and  there  am  lost. 


16  GOD    NEITHER    KNOWN 

GOD  NEITHER  KNOWN  NOR  LOVED  BY 
THE  WORLD. 

Vol.  2,  Cantique  11. 

YE  Linnets,  let  us  try,  beneath  this  grove, 
Which  shall  be  loudest  in  our  Maker's  praise  ! 
In  quest  of  some  forlorn  retreat  I  rove, 
For  all  the  world  is  blind,  and  wanders  from  his  ways. 

That  God  alone  should  prop  the  sinking  soul, 
Fills  them  with  rage  against  his  empire  now ; 
I  traverse  eaith  in  vain  from  pole  to  pole, 
To  seek  one  simple  heart,  set  free  from  all  below. 

They  speak  of  Love,  yet  little  feel  its  sway, 
While  in  their  bosoms  many  an  idol  lurks  ; 
Their  base  desires  well  satisfied  obey, 
Leave  the  Creator's  hand,  and  lean  upon  his  works. 

'Tis  therefore  I  can  dwell  with  man  no  more  ; 
Your  fellowship,  ye  warblers  !  suits  me  best : 
Pure  Love  has  lost  its  price,  though  priz'd  of  yore, 
Profan'd  by  modern  tongues,  and  slighted  as  a  jest. 

My  God,  who  form'd  you  for  his  praise  alone, 
Beholds  his  purpose  well  fulfill'd  in  you  ; 
Come,  let  us  join  the  Choir  before  his  throne, 
Partaking  in  his  praise  with  spirits  just  and  true  ! 

Yes,  I  will  always  love  ;  and,  as  I  ought, 
Tune  to  the  praise  of  Love  my  ceaseless  voice  ; 


NOR    LOVED    BY    THE    WORLD.  17 

Preferring  Love  too  vast  for  human  thought, 
In  spite  of  erring  men,  who  cavil  at  my  choice. 

Why  have  I  not  a  thousand  thousand  hearts, 
Lord  of  my  soul !  that  they  might  all  be  thine  1 
If  thou  approve — the  zeal  thy  smile  imparts, 
How  should  it  ever  fail !    Can  such  a  fire  decline  ? 

Love,  pure  and  holy,  is  a  deathless  fire  ; 

Its  object  heav'nty,  it  must  ever  blaze : 

Eternal  Love,  a  God  must  needs  inspire, 

When  once  he  wins  the  heart,  and  fits  it  for  his  praise. 

Self-love  dismiss'd — 'tis  then  we  live  indeed — 

In  Her  embrace,  death,  only  death,  is  found  ; 

Come  then,  one  noble  effort,  and  succeed, 

Cast  off  the  chain  of  Self  with  which  thy  soul  is  bound  ! 

Oh  !  1  would  cry  that  all  the  world  might  hear, 

Ye  self-tormentors,  love  your  God  alone ; 

Let  his  unequall'd  excellence  be  dear, 

Dear  to  your  inmost  souls,  and  make  him  all  your  own  ! 

They  hear  me  not — alas  !  how  fond  to  rove 

In  endless  chase  of  Folly's  specious  lure ! 

'Tis  here  alone,  beneath  this  shady  grove, 

I  taste  the  sweets  of  Truth — here  only  am  secure. 


18  THE    SWALLOW. 

THE  SWALLOW. 

Vol.  2,  Cantique  54. 

I  AM  fond  of  the  Swallow — I  learn  from  her  flight. 
Had  I  skill  to  improve  it,  a  lesson  of  Love  : 
How  seldom  on  Earth  do  we  see  her  alight ! 
She  dwells  in  the  skies,  she  is  ever  above. 

It  is  on  the  wing  that  she  takes  her  repose, 
Suspended,  and  pois'd  in  the  regions  of  air, 
'Tis  not  in  our  fields  that  her  sustenance  grows, 
It  is  wing'd  like  herself,  'tis  ethereal  fare. 

She  comes  in  the  Spring,  all  the  Summer  she  stays, 
And  dreading  the  cold,  still  follows  the  sun — 
So,  true  to  our  Love,  we  should  covet  his  rays, 
And  the  place  where  he  shines  not,  immediately  shun. 

Our  light  should  be  Love,  and  our  nourishment  Pray'r ; 
It  is  dangerous  food  that  we  find  upon  Earth  ; 
The  fruit  of  this  world  is  beset  with  a  snare, 
In  itself  it  is  hurtful,  as  vile  in  its  birth. 

'Tis  rarely,  if  ever,  she  settles  below, 
And  only  when  building  a  nest  for  her  young  ; 
Were  it  not  for  her  brood,  she  would  never  bestow 
A  thought  upon  any  thing  filthy  as  dung. 

Let  us  leave  it  ourselves  ('tis  a  mortal  abode) 
To  bask  ev'ry  moment  in  infinite  Love  ; 
Let  us  fly  the  dark  winter,  and  follow  the  road 
That  leads  to  the  day-spring  appearing  above. 


THE    TRIUMrH,    &C.  19 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  HEAVENLY  LOVE 
DESIRED. 

Vol.  2,  Cantique  236. 

AH  !  reign,  wherever  Man  is  found, 

My  Spouse,  beloved  and  divine ! 
Then  I  am  rich,  and  I  abound, 

When  ev'ry  human  heart  is  thine. 

A  thousand  sorrows  pierce  my  soul, 
To  think  that  all  are  not  thine  own ; 

Ah  !   be  ador'd  from  pole  to  pole  ; 
Where  is  thy  zeal  ?  arise,  be  known  ! 

All  hearts  are  cold,  in  ev'ry  place, 

Yet  earthly  good  with  warmth  pursue  ; 

Dissolve  them  with  a  flash  of  grace, 
Thaw  these  of  ice,  and  give  us  new  ! 


A  FIGURATIVE    DESCRIPTION  OF  THE 
PROCEDURE  OF  DIVINE  LOVE 

N   BRINGING   A   SOUL    TO   THE    POINT    OF    SELF-RENUNCIATION   AND   ABSOLUTE 
ACQUIESCENCE. 

Vol  2,  Cantique  110. 

'TWAS  my  purpose,  on  a  day, 
To  embark,  and  sail  away  ; 
As  I  climb'd  the  vessel's  side, 
Love  was  sporting  in  the  tide ; 
"  Come,"  he  said — "  ascend — make  haste 
Launch  into  the  boundless  waste." 


20 


THE    SOUL    BROUGHT    TO 

Many  mariners  were  there, 
Having  each  his  sep'rate  care  ; 
They  that  row'd  us,  held  their  eyes 
Fix'd  upon  the  starry  skies ; 
Others  steer'd,  or  turn'd  the  sails 
To  receive  the  shifting  gales. 

Love,  with  pow'r  divine  supply'd, 
Suddenly  my  courage  tri'd  ; 
In  a  moment  it  was  night ; 
Ship,  and  skies,  were  out  of  sight ; 
On  the  briny  wave  I  lay  ; 
Floating  rushes  all  my  stay. 

Did  I  with  resentment  burn 

At  this  unexpected  turn  ? 

Did  T  wish  myself  on  shore, 

Never  to  forsake  it  more  ? 

No — "  my  soul,"  I  cried,  "  be  still ; 

If  I  must  be  lost,  I  will." 

Next,  he  hasten'd  to  convey 
Both  my  frail  supports  away  ; 
Seiz'd  my  rushes  ;  bade  the  waves 
Yawn  into  a  thousand  graves  ; 
Down  I  went,  and  sunk  as  lead, 
Ocean  closing  o'er  my  head. 

Still,  however,  life  was  safe  ; 
And  I  saw  him  turn  and  laugh  ; 
"  Friend,"  he  cried,  "  adieu  !   lie  low, 
While  the  wintry  storms  shall  blow : 


SELF-RENUNCIATION.  21 

When  the  spring  has  calm'd  the  main, 
You  shall  rise  and  float  again." 

Soon  I  saw  him  with  dismay, 
Spread  his  plumes,  and  soar  away ; 
Now  I  mark  his  rapid  flight ; 
Now  he  leaves  my  aching  sight ; 
He  is  gone  whom  I  adore, 
'Tis  in  vain  to  seek  him  more. 

How  I  trembl'd  then,  and  fear'd 
When  my  Love  had  disappear' d  ! 
"  Wilt  thou  leave  me  thus,"  I  cri'd, 
"  Whelm'd  beneath  the  rolling  tide  1" 
Vain  attempt  to  reach  his  ear  ! 
Love  was  gone  and  would  not  hear. 

Ah  !  return,  and  love  me  still ; 

See  me  subject  to  thy  will ; 

Frown  with  wrath,  or  smile  with  grace, 

Only  let  me  see  thy  face  ! 

Evil  I  have  none  to  fear, 

All  is  good  if  thou  art  near. 

Yet  he  leaves  me — cruel  fate  ! 
Leaves  me  in  my  lost  estate — 
Have  I  sinn'd  ?   O,  say  wherein ; 
Tell  me,  and  forgive  my  sin  ! 
King,  and  Lord,  whom  I  adore, 
Shall  I  see  thy  face  no  more  ? 

Be  not  angry  ;  I  resign, 

Henceforth,  all  my  will  to  thine  j 
2 


A    CHILD    OF    GOD    LONGING 

I  consent  that  thou  depart, 

Though  thine  absence  breaks  my  heart ; 

Go  then,  and  for  ever  too  ; 

All  is  right  that  thou  wilt  do. 

This  was  just  what  Love  intended, 
He  was  now  no  more  offended  ; 
Soon  as  I  became  a  child, 
Love  return'd  to  me,  and  smil'd : 
Never  strife  shall  more  betide 
'Twixt  the  Bridegroom  and  his  Bride. 


A  CHILD  OF  GOD  LONGING  TO  SEE  HIM 
BELOVED. 

Vol.  2,    Canlique  144. 

THERE'S  not  an  echo  round  me, 

But  I  am  glad  should  learn, 
How  pure  a  fire  has  found  me, 

The  Love  with  which  I  burn. 
For  none  attends  with  pleasure 

To  what  I  would  reveal ; 
They  slight  me  out  of  measure^ 

And  laugh  at  all  I  feel. 

The  rocks  receive  less  proudly 

The  story  of  my  flame  ; 
When  I  approach,  they  loudly 

Reverberate  his  name. 
I  speak  to  them  of  sadnessv 

And  comforts  at  a  stand  ; 


TO    SEE    HIM    BELOVED.  23 

They  bid  me  look  for  gladness, 
And  better  days  at  hand. 

Far  from  all  habitation, 

I  heard  a  happy  sound  \ 
Big  with  the  consolation 

That  I  have  often  found ; 
I  said,  "  my  lot  is  sorrow, 

My  grief  has  no  alloy  ;" 
The  rocks  replied — "  to-morrow, 

To-morrow  brings  thee  joy." 

These  sweet  and  secret  tidings, 

What  bliss  it  is  to  hear  ! 
For,  spite  of  all  my  chidings, 

My  weakness  and  my  fear, 
No  sooner  I  receive  them, 

Than  I  forget  my  pain, 
And  happy  to  believe  them, 

I  love  as  much  again. 

I  fly  to  scenes  romantic, 

Where  never  men  resort ] 
For  in  an  age  so  frantic, 

Impiety  is  sport. 
For  riot  and  confusion, 

They  barter  things  above  ; 
Condemning,  as  delusion, 

The  joy  of  perfect  Love. 

In  this  sequester'd  corner 
None  hears  what  I  express ; 


24  ASPIRATIONS    OF    THE    SOUL    AFTER    GOD 

Deliver'd  from  the  scorner, 
What  peace  do  I  possess  ! 

Beneath  the  boughs  reclining, 
Or  roving  o'er  the  Wild, 

I  live,  as  undesigning, 
And  harmless  as  a  child. 

No  troubles  here  surprise  me, 

I  innocently  play, 
While  providence  supplies  me, 

And  guards  me  all  the  day  ; 
My  dear  and  kind  defender 

Preserves  me  safely  here, 
From  men  of  pomp  and  splendor, 

Who  fill  a  child  with  fear. 


ASPIRATIONS  OF  THE    SOUL  AFTER  GOU 
Vol.  2,   Cantique  95. 

MY  Spouse  !   in  whose  presence  I  live, 

Sole  object  of  all  my  desires, 
Who  know'st  what  a  flame  I  conceive, 

And  canst  easily  double  its  fires  ; 
How  pleasant  is  all  that  I  meet ! 

From  fear  of  adversity  free, 
I  find  even  sorrow  made  sweet ; 

Because  'tis  assign'd  me  by  Thee, 

Transported,  I  see  thee  display 
Thy  riches  and  glory  divine  ; 


GRATITUDE    AND    LOVE    TO    GOD.  25 

I  have  only  my  life  to  repay, 

Take  what  I  would  gladly  resign. 
Thy  will  is  the  treasure  I  seek, 

For  thou  art  as  faithful  as  strong ; 
There  let  me,  obedient  and  meek, 

Repose  myself  all  the  day  long. 

My  spirit  and  faculties  fail ; 

Oh  finish  what  Love  has  begun  ! 
Destroy  what  is  sinful  and  frail, 

And  dwell  in  the  soul  thou  hast  won  1 
Dear  theme  of  my  wonder  and  praise, 

I  cry,  who  is  worthy  as  Thou  ! 
I  can  only  be  silent  and  gaze  ; 

'Tis  all  that  is  left  to  me  now. 

Oh  !    glory,  in  which  T  am  lost, 

Too  deep  for  the  plummet  of  thought  \ 
On  an  ocean  of  deity  toss'd, 

I  am  swallow'd,  I  sink  into  nought. 
Yet  lost  and  absorb'd  as  T  seem, 

I  chant  to  the  praise  of  my  King  ; 
And  though  overwhelm'd  by  the  theme, 

Am  happy  whenever  I  sing. 


GRATITUDE  AND  LOVE  TO  GOD. 

Vol.  2,   Cantique  95. 

ALL  are  indebted  much  to  thee, 
But  I  far  more  than  all, 
2* 


GRATITUDE    AND    LOVE     TO    GOD. 

From  many  a  deadly  snare  set  free, 

And  rais'd  from  many  a  fall. 
Overwhelm  me,  from  above, 
Daily,  with  thy  boundless  Love. 

What  bonds  of  Gratitude  I  feel, 
No  language  can  declare  ; 

Beneath  th'  oppressive  weight  I  reel, 
'Tis  more  than  I  can  bear  ; 

When  shall  I  that  blessing  prove, 

To  return  thee  Love  for  Love  1 

Spirit  of  Charity,  dispense 
Thy  grace  to  ev'ry  heart : 

Expel  all  other  spirits  thence, 
Drive  self  from  ev'ry  part ; 

Charity  divine,  draw  nigh, 

Break  the  chains  in  which  we  lie  ! 

All  selfish  souls,  whate'er  they  feign, 

Have  still  a  slavish  lot ; 
They  boast  of  Liberty  in  vain, 

Of  Love,  and  feel  it  not. 
He  whose  bosom  glows  with  Thee, 
He,  and  he,  alone  is  free. 

Oh  !  blessedness,  all  bliss  above, 
When  tliy  pure  fires  prevail ! 

Love  only  teaches  what  is  Love  ; 
All  other  lessons  fail : 

We  learn  its  name,  but  not  its  pow'rs, 

Experience  only  makes  it  ours. 


HAPPY    SOLITUDE UNHAPPY    MEN.  27 

HAPPY    SOLITUDE— UNHAPPY    MEN 

Vol.  2,   Cantique  89. 

MY  heart  is  easy,  and  my  burden  light ; 

I  smile,  though  sad,  when  thou  art  in  my  sight  : 

The  more  my  woes  in  secret  I  deplore, 

I  taste  thy  goodness,  and  I  love,  the  more. 

There,  while  a  solemn  stillness  reigns  around, 
Faith,  Love,  and  Hope,  within  my  soul  abound  ; 
And  while  the  world  suppose  me  lost  in  care. 
The  joys  of  angels,  unperceiv'd,  I  share. 

Thy  creatures  wrong  thee,  O  !   thou  sov'reign  Good  ! 
Thou  art  not  lov'd,  because  not  understood  : 
This  grieves  me  most,   that  vain  pursuits  beguile 
Ungrateful  men,  regardless  of  thy  smile. 

Frail  beaut}-,  and  false  honor,  are  ador'd  ; 
While  Thee  they  scom,  and  trifle  with  thy  word  : 
Pass,  unconcern'd,  a  Saviour's  sorrows  by  : 
And  hunt  their  ruin,  with  a  zeal  to  die. 


LIVING     WATER. 

Vol.4,  Canticme  SI. 

THE  fountain  in  its  source. 
No  drought  of  summer  fears  ; 

The  farther  it  pursues  its  course, 
The  nobler  it  appears. 


28  TRUTH    AND    DIVINE    LOVE    REJECTED    &C. 

But  shallow  cisterns  yield 
A  scanty,  short  supply  ; 

The  morning  sees  them  amply  fill'd, 
The  ev'ning  finds  them  dry. 


TRUTH  AND  DIVINE  LOVE  REJECTED  BY 
THE  WORLD. 

Vol.  2,   Cantique  22. 

O  LOVE  !   of  pure  and  heav'nly  birth  ! 
O  !  simple  Truth,  scarce  known  on  earth  ! 
Whom  men  resist  with  stubborn  will ; 
And  more  perverse  and  daring  still, 
Smother  and  quench,  with  reas'nings  vain, 
While  error  and  deception  reign. 

Whence  comes  it,  that,  your  pow'r  the  same 
As  His  on  high,  from  whom  you  came, 
Ye  rarely  find  a  list'ning  ear, 
Or  heart  that  makes  you  welcome  here  ? — 
Because  ye  bring  reproach  and  pain, 
Where'er  ye  visit,  in  your  train. 

The  world  is  proud,  and  cannot  bear 
The  scorn  and  calumny  ye  share  : 
The  praise  of  men,  the  mark  tliey  mean, 
They  fly  the  place  where  ye  are  seen  ; 
Pure  Love,  with  scandal  in  the  rear, 
Suits  not  the  vain ;  it  costs  too  dear. 


DIVINE    JUSTICE    AMIABLE.  29 

Then,  let  the  price  be  what  it  may, 
Though  poor,  I  am  prepar'd  to  pay  : 
Come  shame,  come  sorrow  ;  spite  of  tears, 
Weakness,  and  heart-oppressing  fears  ; 
One  soul,  at  last,  shall  not  repine, 
To  give  you  room,  come,  reign  in  mine  ! 


DIVINE  JUSTICE  AMIABLE. 
Vol.  2,   Cantique  119. 

THOU  hast  no  lightnings,  O  !   thou  Just   ! 

Or  I  their  force  should  know  : 
And  if  thou  strike  me  into  dust, 

My  soul  approves  the  blow. 

The  heart,  that  values  less  its  ease, 

Than  it  adores  thy  ways  ; 
In  thine  avenging  anger,  sees 

A  subject  of  its  praise. 

Pleas'd,  I  could  lie  conceal'd,  and  lost 

In  shades  of  central  night ; 
Not  to  avoid  thy  wrath,  thou  know'st, 

But  lest  I  grieve  thy  sight. 

Smite  me,  O  !  thou,  whom  I  provoke  ! 

And  I  will  love  thee  still : 
The  well-deserv'd,  and  righteous  stroke, 

Shall  please  me,  though  it  kill. 

Am  I  not  worthy,  to  sustain 
The  worst  thou  canst  devise  ; 


30  THE    SOUL    THAT    LOVES    GOD, 

And  dare  I  seek  thy  throne  again, 
And  meet  thy  sacred  eyes  ? 

Far  from  afflicting,  thou  art  kind  ; 

And  in  my  saddest  hours, 
An  unction  of  thy  grace  I  find, 

Pervading  all  my  pow'rs. 

Alas  !  thou  spar'st  me  yet  again  ; 

And  when  thy  wrath  should  move, 
Too  gentle  to  endure  my  pain, 

Thou  sooth'st  me  with  thy  Love. 

I  have  no  punishment  to  fear  ; 

But  ah  !  that  smile  from  thee, 
Imparts  a  pang,  far  more  severe 

Than  woe  itself  would  be. 


THE  SOUL  THAT  LOVES  GOD  FINDS  HIM 
EVERY  WHERE. 

Vol.  2,   Cantique  108. 

OH  thou,  by  long  experience  tried, 
Near  whom  no  grief  can  long  abide  ; 
My  Love  !  how  full  of  sweet  content 
I  pass  my  years  of  banishment. 

All  scenes,  alike  engaging  prove, 
To  souls  impress'd  with  sacred  love  ; 
Where'er  they  dwell,  they  dwell  in  thee  ; 
In  heav'n,  in  earth,  or  on  the  sea. 


FINDS    HIM    EVERY    WHERE.  31 

To  me  remains  nor  place  nor  time  ; 
My  country  is  in  ev'ry  clime  ; 
I  can  be  calm  and  free  fiom  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 

While  place  we  seek,  or  place  we  shun, 
The  soul  finds  happiness  in  none  ; 
But  with  a  God  to  guide  our  way, 
'Tis  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 

Could  I  be  cast  where  thou  art  not, 
That  were  indeed  a  dreadful  lot ; 
But  regions  none,  remote  I  call, 
Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 

My  country,  Lord,  art  thou  alone  ; 
Nor  other  can  I  claim  or  own  ; 
The  point  where  all  my  wishes  meet ; 
My  Law,  my  Love  ;  life's  only  sweet ! 

I  hold  by  nothing  here  below  ; 
Appoint  my  journey,  and  I  go  ; 
Though  pierc'd  by  scorn,  opprest  by  pride, 
I  feel  thee  good — feel  nought  beside. 

No  frowns  of  men  can  hurtful  prove 
To  souls  on  fire  with  heav'nly  love  : 
^Though  men  and  devils  both  condemn, 
No  gloomy  days  arise  for  them. 

Ah  then  !   to  his  embrace  repair ,; 
My  soul,  thou  art  no  stranger  there  ; 
There  Love  divine  shall  be  thy  guard, 
And  peace  and  safety  thy  reward. 


32  THE    TESTIMONY    OF    DIVINE    ADOPTION. 

THE  TESTIMONY  OF  DIVINE  ADOPTION. 

Vol.  2,   Cantique  78. 

HOW  happy  are  the  new-born  race, 
Partakers  of  adopting  grace  ! 

How  pure  the  bliss  they  share  ! 
Hid  from  the  world  and  all  its  eyes, 
Within  their  heart  the  blessing  lies, 

And  conscience  feels  it  there. 

The  moment  we  believe,  'tis  ours  ; 
And  if  we  love  with  all  our  pow'rs 

The  God  from  whom  it  came, 
And  if  we  serve  with  hearts  sincere, 
'Tis  still  discernible  and  clear, 

An  undisputed  claim. 

But  ah  !  if  foul  and  wilful  sin 
Stain  and  dishonor  us  within, 

Farewell  the  joy  we  knew ; 
Again  the  slaves  of  Nature's  sway, 
In  lab'rinths  of  our  own  we  stray, 

Without  a  guide  or  clue. 

The  chaste  and  pure,  who  fear  to  grieve 
The  gracious  Spirit  they  receive, 

His  work  distinctly  trace  ; 
And  strong  in  undissembling  love, 
Boldly  assert,  and  clearly  prove, 

Their  hearts  his  dwelling  place. 


DIVINE    LOVE    ENDURES    NO    RIVAL.  33 

Oh  !   messenger  of  dear  delight, 
Whose  voice  dispels  the  deepest  night, 

Sweet  peace-proclaiming  Dove ! 
With  thee  at  hand  to  sooth  our  pains, 
No  wish  unsatisfied  remains, 

No  task,  but  that  of  Love. 

'Tis  Love  unites  what  Sin  divides  ; 
The  centre  where  all  bliss  resides, 

To  which  the  soul  once  brought, 
Reclining  on  the  first  great  Cause, 
From  his  abounding  sweetness  draws 

Peace  passing  human  thought. 

Sorrow  foregoes  its  nature  there, 
And  life  assumes  a  tranquil  air, 

Divested  of  its  woes ; 
There,  sov'reign  goodness  soothes  the  breast, 
Till  then,  incapable  of  rest, 

In  sacred  sure  repose. 


DIVINE  LOVE  ENDURES  NO  RIVAL. 

Vol.  2,    Cantique  155. 

LOVE  is  the  Lord  whom  I  obey, 
Whose  will  transported  I  perform, 
The  centre  of  my  rest,  my  stay, 
Love  all  in  all  to  me,  myself  a  worm. 

For  uncreated  charms  I  burn, 
Oppress'd  by  slavish  fear  no  more  : 


34 


DIVINE    LOVE    ENDURES    NO    RIVAL. 

For  one,  in  whom  I  may  discern, 

Ev'n  when  he  frowns,  a  sweetness  I  adore. 

He  little  loves  Him,  who  complains, 
And  finds  Him  rig'rous  and  severe ; 
His  heart  is  sordid,  and  he  feigns, 
Though  fall  of  guile,  a  soul  sincere. 

Love  causes  grief,  but  'tis  to  move 
And  stimulate  the  slum7bring  mind  ; 
And  he  has  never  tasted  Love, 
Who  shuns  a  pang  so  graciously  design'd. 

Sweet  is  the  cross,  above  all  sweets, 
To  souls  enamor'd  with  thy  smiles  ; 
The  keenest  woe  life  ever  meets, 
Love  strips  of  all  its  terrors,  and  beguiles. 

Tis  just,  that  God  should  not  be  dear, 
Where  self  engrosses  till  the  thought, 
And  groans  and  murmurs  make  it  clear, 
Whatever  else  is  lov'd,  the  Lord  is  not. 

The  love  of  Thee  flows  just  as  much 
As  that  of  ebbing  Self  sudsides  j 
Our  hearts,  their  scantiness  is  such, 
Bear  not  the  conflict  of  two  rival  tides. 

Both  cannot  govern  in  one  soul ; 
Then  let  self-love  be  dispossess'd ; 
The  Love  of  God  deserves  the  whole, 
And  will  not  dwell  with  so  despis'd  a  guest. 


SELF-DIFFIDENCE. 

SELF-DIFFIDENCE. 

Vol.  2,  Cantique  125. 

SOURCE  of  love,  and  light  of  day, 
Tear  me  from  myself  away  ; 
Ev'ry  view  and  thought  of  mine, 
Cast  into  the  mould  of  thine  ; 
Teach,  Oh  !   teach  this  faithless  heart 
A  consistent,  constant  part ; 
Or,  if  it  must  live  to  grow 
More  rebellious,  break  it  now  1 

Is  it  thus,  that  I  requite 
Grace  and  goodness  infinite  ? 
Ev'ry  trace  of  ev'ry  boon, 
Cancell'd,  and  eras'd,  so  soon  ! 
Can  I  grieve  thee,  whom  I  love  ; 
Thee,  in  whom  I  live  and  move  % 
If  my  sorrow  touch  thee  still, 
Save  me  from  so  great  an  ill ! 

Oh  !  th'  oppressive,  irksome  weight, 
Felt  in  an  uncertain  state  ; 
Comfort,  peace,  and  rest,  adieu, 
Should  I  prove  at  last  untrue  ! 
Still  I  choose  thee,  follow  still 
Ev'ry  notice  of  thy  will ; 
But  unstable,  strangely  weak, 
Still  let  slip  the  good  I  seek. 

Self-confiding  wretch,  I  thought, 
I  could  serve  thee  as  I  ought, 


35 


36  THE    ACQUIESENCE    OF    PURE    LOVE. 

Win  thee,  and  deserve  to  feel 
All  the  love  thou  canst  reveal ! 
Trusting  self,  a  bruised  reed, 
Is  to  be  deceiv'd  indeed  ; 
Save  me  from  this  harm  and  loss, 
Lest  my  gold  turn  all  to  dross  ! 

Self  is  earthly — Faith  alone 
Makes  an  unseen  world  our  own  ; 
Faith  relinquish'd,  how  we  roam, 
Feel  our  way,  and  leave  our  home  ! 
Spurious  Gems  our  hopes  entice, 
While  we  scorn  the  pearl  of  price  ; 
And  preferring  servant's  pay, 
Cast  the  children's  bread  away  ! 


THE  ACaUIESENCE  OF  PURE  LOVE. 

Vol.  2,  Cantique  135. 

LOVE,  if  thy  destin'd  sacrifice  am  I ; 
Come,  slay  thy  victim,  and  prepare  thy  fires  ; 
Plung'd  in  thy  depths  of  mercy,  let  me  die 
The  death,  which  ev'ry  soul  that  lives,  desires  ! 

I  watch. my  hours,  and  see  them  fleet  away  ; 
The  time  is  long,  that  I  have  languish'd  here  ; 
Yet  all  my  thoughts  thy  purposes  obey, 
With  no  reluctance,  cheerful  and  sincere. 

To  me  'tis  equal,  whether  Love  ordain 
My  life  or  death,  appoint  me  pain  or  ease  : 


REPOSE    IN    GOD. 

My  soul  perceives  no  real  Til  in  pain ; 
In  ease,  or  health,  no  real  Good  she  sees. 

One  Good  she  covets,  and  that  Good  alone  ; 
To  choose  thy  will,  from  selfish  bias  free  ; 
And  to  prefer  a  cottage  to  a  throne, 
And  grief  to  comfort,  if  it  pleases  Thee. 

That  we  should  bear  the  cross,  is  thy  command, 
Die  to  the  world,  and  live  to  self  no  more  ; 
Suffer  unmov'd,  beneath  the  rudest  hand, 
As  pleas'd  when  shipwreck'd,  as  when  safe  on  shore. 


37 


REPOSE  IN  GOD. 
Vol  2,  Cantique  17. 

BLEST  I  who  far  from  all  mankind, 
This  world's  shadows  left  behind, 
Hears  from  Heav'n  a  gentle  strain 
Whisp'ring  Love,  and  loves  again. 

Blest !  who  free  from  self-esteem, 
Dives  into  the  Great  Supreme, 
All  desire  beside  discards, 
Joys  inferior  none  regaids. 

Blest !  who  in  thy  bosom  seeks 
Rest  that  nothing  earthly  breaks, 
Dead  to  self  and  worldly  things, 
Lost  in  Thee,  thou  King  of  Kings  * 
3* 


3S 


GLORY    TO    GOD    ALONE. 

Ye  that  know  my  secret  lire, 
Softly  speak,  and  soon  retire  ; 
Favor  my  divine  repose, 
Spare  the  sleep  a  God  bestows. 


GLORY  TO  GOD  ALONE. 

Vol.  2,  Cantique  15. 

OH  lov'd  !  but  not  enough — though  dearer  far 
Than  self  and  its  most  lov'd  enjoyments  are  ; 
None  duly  loves  thee,  but  who,  nobly  free 
From  sensual  objects,  finds  his  all  in  Thee. 

Glory  of  God  !  thou  stranger  here  below, 
Whom  man  nor  knows,  nor  feels  a  wish  to  know  ; 
Our  Faith  and  Reason  are  both  shock'd  to  find 
Man  in  the  post  of  honor — Thee  behind. 

Reason  exclaims — "  Let  ev'ry  creature  fall, 

u  Asham'd,  abas'd,  before  the  Lord  of  all ;" 

And  Faith,  o'erwhelm'd  with  such  a  dazzling  blaze, 

Feebly  describes  the  beauty  she  surveys. 

Yet  man,  dim-sighted  man,  and  rash  as  blind, 
Deaf  to  the  dictates  of  his  better  mind, 
In  frantic  competition  dares  the  skies, 
And  claims  precedence  of  the  Only  Wise. 

Oh  !  lost  in  vanity  till  once  self-known  ! 
Nothing  is  groat,  or  good,  but  God  alone. 


GLORY    TO    GOD    ALONE.  39 

When  thou  shalt  stand  before  his  awful  face, 
Then,  at  the  last,  thy  pride  shall  know  his  place. 

Glorious,  Almighty,  First,  and  without  end  ! 
When  wilt  thou  melt  the  mountains,  and  descend  1 
When  wilt  thou  shoot  abroad  thy  conqu'ring  rays, 
And  teach  these  atoms,  thou  hast  made,  thy  praise  ? 

Thy  Glory  is  the  sweetest  heav'n  I  feel  ; 
And  if  I  seek  it  with  too  fierce  a  zeal, 
Thy  Love,  triumphant  o'er  a  selfish  will, 
Taught  me  the  passion,  and  inspires  it  still. 

My  Reason,  all  my  faculties,  unite, 
To  make  thy  Glory  their  supreme  delight  ; 
Forbid  it,  Fountain  of  my  biightest  days, 
That  I  should  rob  thee,  and  usurp  thy  praise  ! 

My  soul !   rest  happy  in  thy  low  estate, 
Nor  hope,  nor  wish,  to  be  esteem'd,  or  great ; 
To  take  th'  impression  of  a  will  divine, 
Be  that  thy  glory,  and  those  riches  thine. 

Confess  Him  righteous  in  his  just  decrees, 
Love  what  he  loves,  and  let  his  pleasure  please ; 
Die  daily  ;   from  the  touch  of  Sin  recede  : 
Then  thou  hast  crown'd  him,  and  he  reigns  indeed. 


40  SELF-LOVE    AND    TRUTH    INCOMPATIBLE. 

SELF-LOVE    AND    TRUTH    INCOMPATIBLE. 

Vol.2,  Cantique  21. 

FROM  thorny  wilds,  a  Monster  came. 
That  fill'd  my  soul  with  fear  and  shame  ; 
The  birds,  forgetful  of  their  mirth, 
Droop'd  at  the  sight,  and  fell  to  earth ; 
When  thus  a  sage  address'd  mine  ear. 
Himself  unconscious  of  a  fear. 

"  Whence  all  this  terror  and  surprise, 
"  Distracted  looks,  and  streaming  eyes  % 
u  Far  from  the  world  and  its  affairs, 
u  The  joy  it  boasts,  the  pain  it  shares, 
"  Surrender  without  guile  or  art, 
"  To  God,  an  undivided  heart ; 
"  The  savage  form,  so  fear'd  before, 
11  Shall  fright  your  trembling  soul  no  more  ; 
u  For  loathsome  as  the  sight  may  be, 
"  'Tis  but  the  Love  of  self  you  see. 
11  Fix  all  your  Love  on  God  alone, 
11  Choose  but  His  will,  and  hate  your  own ; 
"  No  fear  shall  in  your  path  be  found, 
"  The  dreary  waste  shall  bloom  around, 
"  And  you,  through  all  your  happy  days, 
11  Shall  bless  his  name,  and  sing  his  praise.'' 

Oh  lovely  Solitude,  how  sweet, 
The  silence  of  this  calm  retreat ! 
Here  Truth,  the  fair  whom  I  pursue, 
Gives  all  her  beauty  to  my  view  ; 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD,    THE    END    OF    LIFE.  41 

The  simple,  unadorn'd  display, 

Charms  ev'ry  pain  and  fear  away. 

O  Truth  !  whom  millions  proudly  slight, 

O  Truth  !  my  treasure  and  delight, 

Accept  this  tribute  to  thy  name, 

And  this  poor  heart,  from  which  it  came  ! 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD,  THE  END  OF  LIFE. 

Vol.  2,   Cantique  165. 

SINCE  life  in  sorrow  must  be  spent, 
So  be  it — I  am  well  content, 
And  meekly  wait  my  last  remove, 
Seeking  only  growth  in  Love. 

No  bliss  I  seek,  but  to  fulfill 
In  life,  in  death,  thy  holy  will ; 
No  succours  in  my  w^es  I  want, 
Save  what  thou  art  pleas'd  to  grant. 

Our  days  are  number'd,  let  us  spare 
Our  anxious  hearts  a  needless  care : 
Tia  thine,  to  number  out  our  days  : 
Ours,  to  give  them  to  thy  praise. 

Love  is  our  onty  bus'ness  here, 
Love,  simple,  constant,  and  sincere ; 
O  '   blessed  days,  thy  servants  see  ! 
Spent,  O  Lord  !  in  pleasing  Thee. 


42  LOVE    PURE    AND    FERVENT. 

LOVE  FAITHFUL  IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF 
THE  BELOVED. 

Vol.  4,   Cantique  49. 

IN  vain  ye  woo  me  to  your  harmless  joys, 
Ye  pleasant  bow'rs,  remote  from  strife  and  noise  ; 
Your  shades,  the  witnesses  of  many  a  vow, 
Breath'd  forth  in  happier  days,  are  irksome  now  ; 
Denied  that  smile  'twas  once  my  heav'n  to  see, 
Such  scenes,  such  pleasures  are  all  past  with  me. 

In  vain  he  leaves  me,  I  shall  love  him  still  ; 
And  though  I  mourn,  not  rrturmur  at  his  will ; 
I  have  no  cause — an  object  all  divine 
Might  well  grow  weary  of  a  soul  like  mine  ; 
Yet  pity  me,  great  God  !  forlorn,  alone, 
Heartless  and  hopeless,  Life  and  Love  all  gone. 


LOVE  PURE  AND  FERVENT. 

Vol.  4,   Cantique  31. 

JEALOUS,  and  with  Love  o'erflowing, 
God  demands  a  fervent  heart : 

Grace  and  bounty,  still  bestowing, 
Calls  us  to  a  grateful  part. 

Oh  !   then,  with  supreme  affection, 

His  paternal  will  regard  ! 
If  it  cost  us  some  dejection, 

Ev'ry  sigh  has  its  reward, 


THE    ENTIRE    SURRENDER. 

Perfect  Love  has  pow'r  to  soften 
Cares  that  might  our  peace  destroy, 

Nay.  does  more — transforms  them  often, 
Changing  sorrow  into  joy. 

Sov'reign  Love  appoints  the  measure, 
And  the  number  of  our  pains  ; 

And  is  pleas'd  when  we  find  pleasure 
In  the  trials  he  ordains. 


43 


THE  ENTIRE  SURRENDER. 

Vol.  4.    Cantique  77. 

PEACE  has  unveil'd  her  smiling  face, 
And  woos  tby  soul  to  her  embrace  ; 
Enjoy'd  with  ease,  if  thou  refrain 
From  earthly  Love,  else  sought  in  vain  ; 
She  dwells  with  all  who  Truth  prefer, 
But  seeks  not  them,  who  seeks  not  Her. 

Yield  to  the  Lord,  with  simple  heart, 
All  that  thou  hast,  and  all  thou  art ; 
Renounce  all  strength  but  strength  divme  ; 
And  peace  shall  be  for  ever  thine  : — 
Behold  the  path  which  I  have  trod, 
My  path,  'till  I  go  home  to  God. 


44  GOD    HIDES    HIS    PEOPLE. 

THE  PERFECT  SACRIFICE. 
Vol.  4,    Canlique  74. 

I  place  an  off 'ring  at  thy  shrine, 
From  taint  and  blemish  clear, 

Simple  and  pure  in  its  design, 
Of  all  that  I  hold  dear. 

I  yield  thee  back  thy  gifts  again, 
Thy  gifts  which  most  I  prize  ; 

Desirous  only  to  retain 
The  notice  of  thine  eyes. 

But  jf,  by  thine  ador'd  decree, 
That  blessing  be  denied, 

Resign'd,  and  unreluctant,  see, 
My  ev'ry  wish  subside. 

Thy  will  in  all  things  I  approve  ; 

Exalted  or  cast  down, 
Thy  will  in  ev'ry  state,  I  love, 

And  even  in  thy  frown. 


GOD  HIDES  HIS  PEOPLE. 

Vol.  4,   Canlique  42. 

TO  lay  the  soul  that  loves  him,  low, 

Becomes  the  Only-wise  ; 
To  hide  beneath  a  veil  of  woe 

The  children  of  the  skies. 


GOD    HIDES    HIS    PEOPLE.  45 

Man,  though  a  worm,  would  yet  be  great ; 

Though  feeble,  would  seem  strong  ; 
Assumes  an  independent  state, 

By  sacrilege  and  wrong. 

Strange  the  reverse,  which  once  abas'd, 

The  haughty  creature  proves  ! 
He  feels  his  soul  a  barren  waste, 

Nor  dares  affirm,  he  loves. 

Scorn'd  by  the  thoughtless  and  the  vain, 

To  God  he  presses  near  ; 
Superior  to  the  world's  disdain, 

And  happy  in  it's  sneer. 

Oh  !  welcome,  in  his  heart  he  says, 

Humility  and  shame  ! 
Farewell  the  wish  for  human  praise, 

The  music  of  a  name  ! 

But  will  not  scandal  mar  the  good 

That  I  might  else  perform  ? 
And  can  God  »vork  it,  if  he  would, 

By  so  despis'd  a  worm  1 

Ah  !    vainly  anxious  ! — leave  the  Lord 

To  rule  thee,  and  dispose  ; 
Sweet  is  the  mandate  of  his  word, 

And  gracious  all  he  does. 

He  draws  from  human  littleness 
His  grandeur  and  renown, 
4 


46 


THE    SECRETS    OF    DIVINE    LOVE 

And  gen'rous  hearts  with  joy  confess 
The  triumph  all  his  own. 

Down  then  with  self-exalting  thoughts, 
Thy  faith  and  hope  employ 

To  welcome  all  that  he  allots, 
And  suffer  shame  with  joy. 

No  longer,  then,  thou  wilt  encroach 

On  his  eternal  right ; 
And  he  shall  smile  at  thy  approach, 

And  make  thee  his  delight. 


THE    SECRETS  OF  DIVINE   LOVE  ARE    TO 
BE  KEPT. 

Vol.  3.  Canliqae  48. 

SUN  !    stay  thy  course,  this  moment  stay — 
Suspend  th'  o'erflowing  tide  of  day, 
Divulge  not  such  a  Love  as  mine, 
Ah  !    hide  the  mystery  divine, 
Lest  man,  who  deems  my  glory  shamer 
Should  learn  the  secret  of  my  flame. 

Oh  night !    propitious  to  my  views, 
Thy  sable  awning  wide  diffuse  ; 
Conceal  alike  my  joy  and  pain, 
Nor  draw  thy  curtain  back  again, 
Though  morning,  by  the  tears  she  shows. 
Seems  to  participate  my  woes. 


ARE    TO    BE    KEPT. 

Ye  stars  !    whose  faint  and  feeble  fires 

Express  my  languishing  desires, 

Whose  slender  beams  pervade  the  skies 

As  silent  as  my  secret  sighs, 

Those  emanations  of  a  soul 

That  darts  her  fires  beyond  the  pole  ; 

Your  rays,  that  scarce  assist  the  sight, 
That  pierce,  but  not  displace  the  night, 
That  shine  indeed,  but  nothing  show 
Of  all  those  various  scenes  below, 
Bring  no  disturbance,  rather  prove 
Incentives  of  a  sacred  Love. 

Thou  Moon  !    whose  never- failing  course 

Bespeaks  a  providential  force, 

Go,  tell  the  tidings  of  my  flame 

To  Him  who  calls  the  stars  by  name  ; 

Whose  absence  kills,  whose  presence  cheers  - 

Who  blots,  or  brightens,  all  my  years. 

While,  in  the  blue  abyss  of  space, 
Thine  orb  performs  its  rapid  race  ; 
Still  whisper  in  his  list'ning  ears 
The  language  of  my  sighs  and  tears  ; 
Tell  him,  I  seek  him,  far  below, 
Lost  in  a  wilderness  of  woe. 

Ye  thought-composing,  silent  hours, 
DifTusing  peace  o'er  all  my  pow'rs  ; 
Friencrs  of  the  pensive  !    who  conceal, 
In  darkest  shades,  the  flame  I  feel ; 


47 


48  THE    SECRETS    OF    DIVINE    LOVE 

To  you  I  trust,  and  safely  may, 

The  Love  that  wastes  my  strength  away. 

In  sylvan  scenes,  and  caverns  rude, 
I  taste  the  sweets  of  solitude  ; 
Retir'd  indeed,  but  not  alone, 
I  share  thera  with  a  Spouse  unknown, 
Who  hides  me  here,  from  envious  eyes, 
From  all  intrusion  and  surprise. 

Imbow'ring  shades,  and  dens  profound  ! 
Where  echo  rolls  the  voice  around  : 
Mountains  !    whose  elevated  heads, 
A  moist,  and  misty  veil  o'erspreads  ; 
Disclose  a  solitary  Bride 
To  Him  I  love — to  none  beside. 

Ye  rills  !    that  murm'ring  all  the  way, 
Among  the  polish'd  pebbles  stray  ; 
Creep  silently  along  the  ground, 
Lest  drawn  by  that  harmonious  sound, 
Some  wand'rer,  whom  I  would  not  meet, 
Should  stumble  on  my  lov'd  retreat. 

Enameli'd  meads,  and  hillocks  green, 
And  streams,  that  water  all  the  scene  ! 
Ye  torrents,  loud  in  distant  ears  ! 
Ye  fountains,  that  receive  my  tears  ! 
Ah  !    still  conceal,  with  caution  due, 
A  charge,  I  trust  with  none  but  you. 

If,  when  my  pain  and  grief  increase. 
I  seem  t'  enjoy  the  sweetest  peace, 


ARE    TO    BE    KEPT.  49 

It  is  because  I  find  so  fair 
The  charming  object  of  my  care, 
That  I  can  sport,  and  pleasure,  make 
Of  torment,  suffer'd  for  his  sake. 

Ye  meads  and  groves  !    unconscious  things  ! 
Ye  know  not  whence  my  pleasure  springs, 
Ye  know  not,  and  ye  cannot  know, 
The  source  from  winch  my  sorrows  flow ; 
The  clear  sole  Cause  of  all  I  feel, — 
He  knows,  and  understands  them  well. 

Ye  deserts  !    where  the  wild  beasts  rove, 
Scenes  sacred  to  my  hours  of  love  ; 
Ye  forests  !    in  whose  shades  I  stray, 
Benighted  under  burning  day  ; 
Ah  !    whisper  not  how  blest  am  I, 
Nor  while  I  live,  nor  when  I  die. 

Ye  lambs  !    that  sport  beneath  these  shades, 

And  bound  along  the  mossy  glades  : 

Be  taught  a  salutary  fear, 

And  cease  to  bleat  when  I  am  near : 

The  wolf  may  hear  your  harmless  cry, 

"Whom  ye  should  dread,  as  much  as  I. 

How  calm,  amid  these  scenes,  my  mind  J 

How  perfect  is  the  peace  I  find ! 

Oh  !  hush,  be  still  my  ev'ry  part, 

My  tongue,  my  pulse,  my  beating  heart ! 

That,  Love  aspiring  to  its  cause, 

May  suffer  not  a  moment's  pause. 

4* 


50  THE    SECRETS    OF    DIVINE    LOVE    &C. 

Ye  swift-finn'd  nations  !    that  abide 
In  seas,  as  fathomless  as  wide  ; 
And  unsuspicious  of  a  snare, 
Pursue  at  large,  your  pleasures  there  : 
Poor  sportive  fools  !  how  soon  does  man 
Your  heedless  ignorance  trepan  ! 

Away  !    dive  deep  into  the  brine, 
Where  never  yet  sunk  plummet  line  ; 
Trust  me,  the  vast  Leviathan 
Is  merciful,  compar'd  with  man  ; 
Avoid  his  arts,  forsake  the  beach, 
And  never  play  within  his  reach. 

My  soul  her  bondage  ill  endures  ; 

I  pant  for  liberty  like  yours  ; 

I  long  for  that  immense  Profound, 

That  knows  no  bottom,  and  no  bound  ; 

Lost  in  Infinity,  to  prove 

Th'  Incomprehensible  of  Love. 

Ye  birds  !    that  lessen  as  ye  fly, 
And  vanish  in  the  distant  sky  ; 
To  whom  yon  airy  waste  belongs, 
Resounding  with  your  cheerful  songs  ; 
Haste  to  escape  from  human  sight : 
Fear  less,  the  vulture,  and  the  kite. 

How  blest,  and  how  secure,  am  I, 
When  quitting  earth,  I  soar  on  high  ; 
When  lost,  like  you  I  disappear, 
And  float  in  a  sublimer  sphere  ! 


THE    VICISSITUDES,    &C.  51 

Whence  falling,  within  human  view, 
I  am  ensnar'd,  and  caught  like  you. 

Omniscient  God  !    whose  notice  deigns 
To  try  the  heart,  and  search  the  reins  ; 
Compassionate  the  num'rous  woes, 
I  dare  not,  e'en  to  thee,  disclose  ; 
Oh  !    save  me  from  the  cruel  hands 
Of  men,  who  fear  not  thy  commands  1 

Love,  all-subduing,  and  divine, 
Care  for  a  creature,  truly  thine  ; 
Reign  in  a  heart,  dispos'd  to  own 
No  sovereign,  but  thyself  alone  ; 
Cherish  a  Bride,  who  cannot  rove 
Nor  quit  thee  for  a  meaner  Love  \ 


THE  VICISSITUDES    EXPERIENCED  IN  A 
CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 

Vol  3,   Cuntique  69. 

I  suffer  fruitless  anguish  day  by  day, 
Each  moment,  as  it  passes,  marks  my  pain  ; 
Scarce  knowing  whither,  doubtfully  I  stray, 
And  see  no  end  to  all  thai  I  sustain. 

The  more  I  strive,  the  more  I  am  withstood ; 
Anxiety  increasing  ev'ry  hour, 
My  spirit  finds  no  rest,  performs  no  good, 
And  nought  remains  of  all  my  former  pow'r. 


52  THE    VICISSITUDES    EXPERIENCED 

My  peace  of  heart  is  fled,  I  know  not  where ; 
My  hap^y  hours,  like  shadows,  pass'd  away  ; 
Their  sweet  rememb'rance  doubles  all  my  care, 
Night  darker  seems,  succeeding  such  a  day. 

Dear  faded  joys,  and  impotent  regret, 

What  profit  is  there  in  incessant  tears  % 

Oh  !  Thou,  whom,  once  beheld,  we  ne'er  forget, 

Reveal  thy  Love,  and  banish  all  my  fears  ! 

Alas  !    he  flies  me — treats  me  as  his  foe, 
Views  not  my  sorrows,  hears  not  when  I  plead  ; 
Woe,  such  as  mine,  despisM,  neglected  woe, 
Unless  it  shorten  life,  is  vain  indeed. 

Pierc'd  with  a  thousand  wounds,  I  yet  survive  ; 
My  pangs  are  keen,  but  no  complaint  transpires ; 
And  while  in  terrors  of  thy  wrath  I  live, 
Hell  se^ms  to  lose  its  less  tremendous  fires. 

Has  Hell  a  pain  I  would  not  gladly  bear, 
So  thy  severe  displeasure  might  subside  1 
Hopeless  of  ease,  I  seem  already  there, 
My  life  extinguish'd,  and  yet  death  denied. 

Is  this  the  joy  so  promis'd — this  the  Love, 
Th'  unchanging  love,  so  sworn  in  better  days  ! 
Ah  !    dang'rous  glories  !    shown  me,  but  to  prove 
How  lovely  thou,  and  I,  how  rash  to  gaze. 

Why  did  I  see  them  1    had  I  still  remain'd, 
Untaught,  still  ignorant  how  fair  thou  art, 


IN    A    CHRISTIAN    LIFE. 

My  humbler  wishes  I  had  soon  obtain'd, 
Nor  known  the  torments  of  a  doubting  heart. 

Depriv'd  of  all,  yet  feeling  no  desires, 
Whence  then  I  cry,  the  pangs  that  I  sustain  % 
Dubious,  and  uninform'd,  my  soul  inquires, 
Ought  she  to  cherish,  or  shake  off  her  pain. 

Sufi" 'ring,  I  suffer  not — sincerely  love, 
Yet  feel  no  touch  of  that  enliv'ning  flame  ; 
As  chance  inclines  me,  unconcern'd  I  move, 
All  times,  and  all  events,  to  me  the  same. 

I  search  my  heart,  and  not  a  wish  is  there, 
But  burns  with  zeal  that  hated  self  may  fall ; 
Such  is  the  sad  inquietude  I  share, 
A  sea  of  doubts,  and  self  the  source  of  all. 

I  ask  not  life,  nor  do  I  wish  to  die  ; 
And  if  thine  hand  accomplish  not  my  cure, 
I  would  not  purchase,  with  a  single  sigh, 
A  free  discharge  from  all  that  I  endure. 

I  groan  in  chains,  yet  want  not  a  release  ; 
Am  sick,  and  know  not  the  distemper'd  part ; 
Am  just  as  void  of  purpose,  as  of  peace  ; 
Have  neither  plan,  nor  fear,  nor  hope,  nor  heart. 

My  claim  to  life,  though  sought  with  earnest  care, 
Na  light,  within  me,  nor  without  me,  shows  ; 


53 


54  THE    VICISSITUDES    EXPERIENCED 

Once  I  had  faith  ;   but  now,  in  self-despair 
Find  my  chief  cordial,  and  my  best  repose. 

My  soul  is  a  forgotten  thing,  she  sinks, 
Sinks,  and  is  lost,  without  a  wish  to  rise  ; 
Feels  an  indiff 'rence  she  abhors,  and  thinks 
Her  name  eras'd  for  ever  from  the  skies. 

Language  affords  not  my  distress  a  name, 
Yet  is  it  real,  and  no  sickly  dream  ; 
'Tis  Love  inflicts  it ;  though  to  feel  that  flame, 
Is  all  I  know  of  happiness  supreme. 

When  Love  departs,  a  Chaos  wide  and  vast, 
And  dark  as  Hell,  is  open'd  in  the  soul ; 
When  Love  returns,  the  gloomy  scene  is  past, 
No  tempests  shake  her,  and  no  fears  control. 

Then  tell  me,  why  these  ages  of  delay  ? 
Oh  !    Love,  all-excellent,  once  more  appear  ; 
Disperse  the  shades,  and  snatch  me  into  day, 
From  this  abyss  of  night,  these  floods  of  fear ! 

No — Love  is  angry,  will  not  now  endure 

A  sigh  of  mine,  or  suffer  a  complaint ; 

He  smites  me,  wounds  me,  and  withholds  the  cure: 

Exhausts  my  pow'rs,  and  leaves  me  sick  and  faint. 

He  wounds,  and  hides  the  hand  that  gave  the  blow; 
He  flies,  he  re-appears,  and  wounds  again — 


IN    A    CHRISTIAN    LIFE.  55 

Was  ever  heart  that  lov'd  thee,  treated  so  ? 
Yet  I  adore  thee,  though  it  seem  in  vain. 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me,  whom,  when  lost  and  blind, 
Thou  didst  distinguish,  and  vouchsafe  to  choose, 
Before  thy  laws  were  written  in  my  mind, 
While  yet  the  world  had  all  my  thoughts  and  views  ? 

Now  leave  me  ?    when,  enamor'd  of  thy  laws, 
I  make  thy  glory  my  supreme  delight ; 
Now  blot  me  from  thy  register,  and  cause 
A  faithful  soul  to  perish  from  thy  sight  1 

What  can  have  caused  the  change  that  I  deplore  7 
Is  it  to  prove  me,  if  my  heart  be  true  ? 
Permit  me  then,  while  prostrate  I  adore, 
To  draw,  and  place  its  picture  in  thy  view. 

'Tis  thine  without  reserve,  most  simply  thine  ; 
So  giv'n  to  thee,  that  it  is  not  my  own  ; 
A  willing  Captive  of  thy  grace  divine  ; 
And  loves,  and  seeks  thee,  for  thyself  alone. 

Pain  cannot  move  it,  danger  cannot  scare  ; 
Pleasure,  and  wealth,  in  its  esteem,  are  dust ; 
It  loves  thee,  e'en  when  least  inclin'd,  to  spare 
Its  tend'rest  feelings,  and  avows  thee  just. 

'Tis  all  thine  own  ;  my  spirit  is  so  too, 
An  undivided  off  'ring  at  thy  shrine  ; 


56  WATCHING    UNTO    GOD 

It  seeks  thy  glory  with  no  double  view, 
Thy  glory,  with  no  secret  bent  to  mine. 

Love,  holy  Love  !    and  art  thou  not  severe, 
To  slight  me,  thus  devoted,  and  thus  fix'd  ? 
Mine  is  an  everlasting  ardor,  clear 
From  all  self-bias,  gen'rous,  and  unmix'd. 

But  I  am  silent,  seeing  what  I  see — 
And  fear,  with  cause,  that  I  am  self-deceiv'd ; 
Not  e'en  my  faith  is  from  suspicion  free, 
And,  that  I  love,  seems  not  to  be  believ'd. 

Live  thou,  and  reign  forever,  glorious  Lord  ! 
My  last,  least  off 'ring,  I  present  thee  now — 
Renounce  me,  leave  me,  and  be  still  ador'd ! 
Slay  me,  my  God,  and  I  applaud  the  blow. 


WATCHING  UNTO  GOD  IN  THE  NIGHT- 

SEASON. 

Vol.  3,   Cantique  71. 

SLEEP  at  last  has  fled  these  eyes, 

Nor  do  I  regret  his  flight, 
More  alert  my  spirits  rise, 

And  my  heart  is  free  and  light. 

Nature  silent  all  around, 
Not  a  single  witness  near ; 


IN    THE    NIGHT    SEASON. 

God,  as  soon  as  sought,  is  found ; 
And  the  flame  of  Love  bums  clear. 

Interruption,  all  day  long, 

Checks  the  current  of  my  joys ; 

Creatures  press  me  with  a  throng. 
And  perplex  me  with  their  noise. 

Undistmb'd,  I  muse,  all  night, 
On  the  First  Eternal  Fair  ; 

Nothing  there  obstructs  delight, 
Love  is  renovated  there. 

Life,  with  its  perpetual  stir, 
Proves  a  foe  to  Love,  and  me ; 

Fresh  entanglements  occur — 
Comes  the  night,  and  sets  me  free. 

Never  more,  sweet  sleep,  suspend 
My  enjoyments  always  new ; 

Leave  me  to  possess  my  Friend  ; 
Other  eyes  and  hearts  subdue. 

Hush  the  world,  that  I  may  wake 
To  the  taste  of  pure  delights  ; 

Oh  !   the  pleasures  I  partake — 
God,  the  Partner  of  my  nights ! 

David,  for  the  self-same  cause, 
Night  prcferr'd  to  busy  day ; 
5 


5* 


58  WATCHING    UNTO    GOD 

Hearts,  whom  heav'nly  beauty  draws. 
Wish  the  glaring  sun  away. 

Sleep,  Self-lovers,  is  for  you — 
Souls  that  love  celestial  know, 

Fairer  scenes,  by  night  can  view, 
Than  the  sun  could  ever  show. 


ON  THE  SAME. 
Vol.  3,   Cantique  72. 

SEASON  of  my  purest  pleasure, 

Sealer  of  observing  eyes  ! 
When  in  larger,  freer  measure, 

I  can  commune  with  the  skies  ; 
While,  beneath  thy  shade  extended, 

Weary  man  forgets  his  woes ; 
I,  my  daily  trouble  ended, 

Find,  in  Watching,  my  Repose. 

Silence,  all  around  prevailing, 

Nature  hush'd  in  slumber  sweet, 
No  rude  nbise  mine  ears  assailing, 

Now  my  God  and  I  can  meet : 
Universal  nature  slumbers, 

And  my  soul  partakes  the  calm, 
Breathes  her  ardor  out  in  numbers, 

Plaintive  song,  or  lofty  psalm. 

Now  my  passion,  pure  and  holy, 

Shines,  and  bums,  without  restraint  J 


IN    THE    NIGHT    SEASON.  59 

Which  the  day's  fatigue,  and  folly. 

Caus'd  to  languish,  dim  and  faint : 
Charming  hours  of  relaxation  ! 

How  I  dread  th'  ascending  sun ! 
Surely,  idle  conversation 

Is  an  evil,  match'd  by  none. 

Worldly  prate,  and  babble,  hurt  me; 

Unintelligible  prove  ; 
Neither  teach  me,  nor  divert  me  ; 

I  have  ears  for  none  but  Love. 
Me,  they  rude  esteem,  and  foolish, 

Hearing  my  absurd  replies  ; 
I  have  neither  arts'  fine  polish, 

Nor  the  knowledge  of  the  wise. 

Simple  souls,  and  unpolluted, 

By  conversing  with  the  great, 
Have  a  mind,  and  taste,  ill  suited 

To  their  dignity,  and  state  ; 
All  their  talking,  reading,  writing, 

Are  but  talents  misapplied ; 
Infants'  prattle,  I  delight  in, 

Nothing  human  choose  beside. 

'Tis  the  secret  fear  of  sinning, 

Checks  my  tongue,  or  I  si  ould  say, 

When  I  see  the  night  beginning, 
I  am  glad  of  parting  day  : 


60  WATCHING    UNTO    GOD 

Love,  this  gentle  admonition 
Whispers  soft,  within  my  breast ; 

"  Choice  befits  not  thy  condition, 
Acquiesence  suits  thee  best." 

Henceforth,  the  repose  and  pleasure 

Night  affords  me,  I  resign  ; 
And  thy  will,  shall  be  the  measure, 

Wisdom  infinite  !  of  mine : 
Wishing,  is  but  inclination 

Quarrelling  with  thy  decrees  ; 
Wayward  nature  finds  th'  occasion, 

'Tis  her  folly,  and  disease. 

Night,  with  its  sublime  enjoyments, 

Now  no  longer  will  I  choose ; 
Nor  the  day,  with  its  employments, 

Irksome  as  they  seem,  refuse. 
Lessons  of  a  God's  inspiring, 

Neither  time  nor  place  impedes ; 
From  our  wishing  and  desiring, 

Our  unhappiness  proceeds. 


ON    THE    SAME. 
Vol.  3,  C antique  73. 

NIGHT  !   how  I  love  thy  silent  shades, 

My  spirits  they  compose  ; 
The  bliss  of  heav'n  my  soul  pervades, 

In  spite  of  all  my  woes. 


IN    THE    NIGHT    SEASON.  61 

While  sleep  instils  her  poppy  dews 

In  ev'ry  slumb'ring  eye, 
I  watch,  to  meditate  and  muse, 

In  blest  tranquility. 

And  when  I  feel  a  God  immense, 

Familiarly  impart, 
With  ev'ry  proof  he  can  dispense, 

His  favor  to  my  heart. 

My  native  meanness  I  lament, 

Though  most  divinely  fiU'd 
With  all  th'  ineffable  content, 

That  Deity  can  yield. 

His  purpose,  and  his  course,  he  keeps  j 

Treads  all  my  reas'ning.s  down  ; 
Commands  me  out  of  Nature's  deeps, 

And  hides  me  in  his  own. 

When  in  the  dust,  its  proper  place, 

Our  pride  of  heart  we  lay ; 
1Tis  then,  a  deluge  of  his  grace 

Bears  all  our  sins  away. 

Thou,  whom  I  serve,  and  whose  I  am, 

Whose  influence  from  on  high, 
Refines,  and  still  refines  my  flame, 

And  makes  my  fetters  fly  ; 

How  wretched  is  the  creature's  state 

Who  thwarts  thy  gracious  powV, 
5* 


62  THE    JOY    OF    THE    CROSS. 

Crush'd  under  sin's  enormous  weight, 
Increasing  ev'ry  hour ! 

The  night,  when  pass'd  entire  with  thee, 

How  luminous  and  clear  ! 
Then  sleep  has  no  delights  for  me, 

Lest  Thou  shouldst  disappear. 

My  Saviour  !    occupy  me  still 

In  this  secure  recess  ; 
Let  reason  slumber  if  she  will, 

My  joy  shall  not  be  less  : 

Let  reason  slumber  out  the  night'; 

But  if  Thou  deign  to  make 
My  soul  th'  abode  of  truth  and  light, 

Ah,  keep  my  heart  awake  ! 


THE  JOY  OF  THE  CROSS. 

Vol.  3,   Cantique  97. 

LONG  plung'd  in  sorrow,  I  resign 
My  soul  to  that  dear  hand  of  thine, 

Without  reserve  or  fear  ; 
That  hand  shall  wipe  my  streaming  eyes  ; 
Or  into  smiles  of  glad  surprise, 

Transform  the  falling  tear. 

My  sole  possession  is  thy  Love  ; 
In  earth  beneath,  or  heav'n  above, 
I  have  no  other  store  j 


THE    JOY   OF    THE    CROSS.  63 

And  though  with  fervent  suit  I  pray, 
And  importune  thee  night  and  day, 
I  ask  thee  nothing  more. 

My  rapid  hours  pursue  the  course 
Prescrib'd  them  by  love's  sweetest  force  ; 

And  I,  thy  sov'reign  Will, 
Without  a  wish  t'  escape  my  doom  ; 
Though  still  a  suff'rer  from  the  womb, 

And  doom'd  to  suffer  still. 

By  thy  command,  where'er  I  stray, 
Sorrow  attends  me  all  my  way, 

A  never-failing  friend ; 
And  if  my  suff 'rings  may  augment 
Thy  praise,  behold  me  well  content — 

Let  sorrow  still  attend  ! 

It  costs  me  no  regret,  that  she, 

Who  folio w'd  Christ,  should  follow  me  ; 

And  though,  where'er  she  goes, 
Thorns  spring  spontaneous  at  her  feet, 
I  love  her,  and  extract  a  sweet 

From  all  my  bitter  woes. 

Adieu  !    ye  vain  delights  of  earth  ; 
Insipid  sports,  and  childish  mirth, 

I  taste  no  sweets  in  you  ; 
Unknown  delights  are  in  the  Cross, 
All  joy  beside,  to  me  is  dross  ; 

And  Jesus  thought  so  too. 


64  THE    JOY    OF    THE    CROSS. 

The  Cross  !    Oh  ravishment  and  bliss- 
How  grateful  e'en  its  anguish  is ; 

Its  bitterness,  how  sweet ! 
There  ev'ry  sense,  and  all  the  mind, 
In  all  her  faculties  refin'd, 

Tastes  happiness  complete. 

Souls  once  enabl'd  to  disdain 
Base  sublunary  joys,  maintain 

Their  dignity  secure  ; 
The  fever  of  desire  is  pass'd, 
And  Love  has  all  its  genuine  taste, 

Is  delicate  and  pure. 

Self-love,  no  grace  in  sorrow  sees, 
Consults  her  own  peculiar  ease  ; 

'Tis  all  the  bliss  she  knows  : 
But  nobler  aims  true  Love  employ ; 
In  self-denial  is  her  joy, 

In  suff'ring  her  repose. 

Sorrow,  and  Love,  go  side  by  side  ; 
Nor  height,  nor  depth,  can  e'er  divide 

Their  heav'n-appointed  bands ; 
Those  dear  associates  still  are  one, 
Nor,  till  the  race  of  life  is  run, 

Disjoin  their  wedded  hands. 

Jesus,  avenger  of  our  Fall, 
Thou  faithful  Lover,  above  all 
The  Cross  has  ever  borne  J 


JOY    IN    MARTYRDOM.  65 

Oh  !    tell  me, — Life  is  in  thy  voice — 
How  much  afflictions  were  thy  choice, 
And  sloth  and  ease  thy  scorn ! 

Thy  choice,  and  mine,  shall  be  the  same ; 
Inspirer  of  that  holy  flame, 

Which  must  forever  blaze  ! 
To  take  the  Cross,  and  follow  Thee, 
Where  love  and  duty  lead,  shall  be 

My  portion,  and  my  praise. 


JOY  IN  MARTYRDOM. 
Vol  2,   Cantique  110. 

SWEET  tenants  of  this  grove  ! 

Who  sing,  without  design, 
A  song  of  artless  love, 

In  unison  with  mine  ; 
These  echoing  shades  return 

Full  many  a  note  of  ouis, 
That  wise  ones  cannot  learn, 

With  all  their  boasted  pow'rs. 

Oh  !    Thou,  whose  sacred  charms 
These  hearts  so  seldom  love, 

Although  thy  beauty  warms, 
And  blesses  all  above  ; 

How  slow  are  human  things, 
To  choose  their  happiest  lot ! 


66  SIMPLE    TRUST. 

All-glorious  King  of  Kings, 
Say,  why  we  love  thee  not  % 

This  heart,  that  cannot  rest, 

Shall  thine  for  ever  prove  ; 
Though  bleeding  and  distress'd, 

Yet  joyful  in  thy  love  : 
'Tis  happy,  though  it  breaks 

Beneath  thy  chast'ning  hand 
And  speechless,  yet  it  speaks 

What  thou  canst  understand. 


SIMPLE  TRUST. 
Vol.  3,   Cantique  95. 

STILL,  still,  without  ceasing, 

I  feel  it  increasing, 
This  fervor  of  holy  desire ; 

And  often  exclaim, 

Let  me  die  in  the  flame 
Of  a  Love  that  can  never  expire  ! 

Had  I  words  to  explain, 

What  she  must  sustain, 
Who  dies  to  the  world  and  its  ways ; 

How  joy  and  affright, 

Distress  and  delight, 
Alternately  chequer  her  days  ; 

Thou,  sweetly  severe  ! 
I  would  make  thee  appear, 
In  all  thou  art  pleased  to  award, 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    SELF-ABASEMENT.  67 

Not  more  in  the  sweet, 
Than  the  bitter  I  meet, 
My  tender  and  merciful  Lord. 

This  Faith,  in  the  dark 

Pursuing  its  mark, 
Through  many  sharp  trials  of  Love  ; 

Is  the  sorrowful  waste, 

That  is  to  be  pass'd, 
In  the  way  to  the  Canaan  above. 


THE  NECESSITY  OE  SELF-ABASEMENT. 

Vol.  3,    Canlique  92. 

SOURCE  of  Love,  my  brighter  Sun, 

Thou  alone  my  comfort  art ; 

See  my  race  is  almost  run  ; 

Hast  thou  left  this  trembling  heart  ? 

In  my  youth,  thy  charming  eyes 
Drew  me  from  the  ways  of  men  ; 
Then  I  drank  un mingled  joys  ; 
Frown  of  thine,  saw  never  then. 

Spouse  of  Christ  was  then  my  name  ; 
And,  devoted  all  to  thee, 
Strangely  jealous  I  became, 
Jealous  of  this  Self,  in  me. 

Thee  to  love,  and  none  beside, 
Was  my  darling,  sole  employ ; 


68  THE    NECESSITY    OF    SELF-ABASEMENT. 

While  alternately  I  died, 
Now  of  grief,  and  now  of  joy. 

Through  the  dark  and  silent  night, 
On  thy  radiant  smiles  I  dwelt ; 
And  to  see  the  dawning  light, 
Was  the  keenest  pain  I  felt. 

Thou  my  gracious  teacher  wert : 
And  thine  eye,  so  close  applied, 
While  it  watch'd  thy  pupil's  heart, 
Seem'd  to  look  at  none  beside. 

Conscious  of  no  evil  drift, 
This,  I  cried,  is  Love  indeed — 
'Tis  the  Giver,  not  the  gift, 
Whence  the  joys  I  feel  proceed. 

But  soon  humbled,  and  laid  low, 
Stript  of  all  thou  hadst  conferr'd, 
Nothing  left,  but  sin  and  woe, 
I  perceiv'd  how  I  had  err'd. 

Oh  !    the  vain  conceit  of  man, 
Dreaming  of  a  good  his  own, 
Arrogating  all  he  can, 
Though  the  Lord  is  good  alone  ! 

He,  the  graces  Thou  hast  wrought, 
Makes  subservient  to  his  pride  ; 
Ignorant,  that  one  such  thought 
Passes  all  his  sin  beside. 


LOVE  INCREASED  BY  SUFFERING.         69 

Such  his  folly — prov'd,  at  last, 
By  the  loss  of  that  repose 
Self-complacence  cannot  taste, 
Only  Love  divine  bestows. 

Tis  by  this  reproof  severe, 
And  by  this  reproof  alone, 
His  defects  at  last  appear, 
Man  is  to  himself  made  known. 

Learn,  all  Earth  !    that  feeble  man, 
Sprung  from  this  terrestrial  clod, 
Nothing  is,  and  nothing  can  ; 
Life,  and  pow'r,  are  all  in  God. 


LOVE  INCREASED  BY  SUFFERING. 

Vol.  3,   Cantique  98. 

■  I  love  the  Lord,"  is  still  the  strain 

This  heart  delights  to  sing  ; 
But  I  reply. — your  thoughts  are  vain, 

Perhaps  'tis  no  such  thing. 

Before  the  pow'r  of  Love  divine, 

Creation  fades  away  ; 
Till  only  God  is  seen  to  shine 

In  all  that  we  survey. 

In  gulphs  of  awful  night  we  find 
The  God  of  our  desires ; 
6 


70         LOVE  INCREASED  BY  SUFFERING. 

'Tis  there  he  stamps  the  yielding  mind, 
And  doubles  all  its  fires. 

Flames  of  encircling  Love  invest, 
And  pierce  it  sweetly  through  ; 

'Tis  fill'd  with  sacred  joy,  yet  press'd 
With  sacred  sorrow  too. 

Ah  Love  !    my  heart  is  in  the  right — 

Amidst  a  thousand  woes, 
To  thee,  its  ever  new  delight, 

And  all  its  peace,  it  owes. 

Fresh  causes  of  distress  occur, 

Where'er  I  look  or  move  ; 
The  comforts,  I  to  all  prefer, 

Are  solitude  and  love. 

Nor  exile  I,  nor  prison  fear  ; 

Love  makes  my  courage  great ; 
I  find  a  Saviour  ev'ry  where, 

His  grace,  in  ev'ry  state. 

Nor  castle  wails,  nor  dungeons  deep, 
Exclude  his  quick'ning  beams  ; 

There  I  can  sit,  and  sing,  and  weep, 
And  dwell  on  heav'nly  themes. 

There,  sorrow,  for  his  sake,  is  found 

A  joy  beyond  compare  ; 
There,  no  presumptuous  thoughts  abound, 

No  pride  can  enter  there. 


SCENES    FAVORABLE    TO    MEDITATION.  71 

A  Saviour  doubles  all  my  joys, 

And  sweetens  all  my  pains, 
His  strength  in  my  defence  emploj's, 

Consoles  me,  and  sustains. 

I  fear  no  ill,  resent  no  wrong  : 

Nor  feel  a  passion  move, 
When  malice  whets  her  sland'rous  tongue  ; 

Such  patience  is  in  Love. 


SCENES  FAVORABLE  TO  MEDITATION. 
Vol.  3,  Cantiqne  S3. 

WILDS  horrid  and  dark  with  o'ershadowing  trees, 

Rocks  that  ivy  and  briars  infold, 
Scenes,  nature  with  dread  and  astonishment  sees, 

But  I  with  a  pleasure  untold ! 

Though  awfully  silent,  and  shaggy  and  rude, 
I  am  charm'd  with  the  peace  ye  afford, 

Your  shades  are  a  temple  where  none  will  intrude, 
The  abode  of  my  Lover  and  Lord. 

I  am  sick  of  thy  splendor,  O  !    fountain  of  day  ! 

And  here  I  am  hid  from  thy  beams, 
Here  safely  contemplate  a  brighter  display 

Of  the  noblest  and  holiest  themes. 

Ye  forests  that  yield  me  my  sweetest  repose, 
Where  stillness  and  solitude  reign, 


72  SCENES    FAVORABLE    TO    MEDITATION. 

To  you  I  securely  and  boldly  disclose 
The  dear  anguish  of  which  I  complain. 

Here  sweetly  forgetting,  and  wholly  forgot 
By  the  world  and  its  turbulent  throng, 

The  birds  and  the  streams  lend  me  many  a  note 
That  aids  meditation  and  song. 

Here  wand'ring  in  scenes  that  are  sacred  to  night, 
Love  wears  me,  and  wastes  me  away, 

And  often  the  sun  has  spent  much  of  his  light, 
Ere  yet  I  perceive  it  is  day. 

While  a  mantle  of  darkness  envelopes  the  sphere, 

My  sorrows  are  safely  rehears'd, 
To  me  the  dark  hours  are  all  equally  dear, 

And  the  last  is  as  sweet  as  the  first. 

Here  I  and  the  beasts  of  the  desert  agree, 

Mankind  are  the  wolves  that  I  fear, 
They  grudge  me  my  natural  right  to  be  free, 

But  nobody  questions  it  here. 

Though  little  is  found  in  this  dreary  abode, 

That  appetite  wishes  to  find, 
My  spirit  is  sooth'd  by  the  presence  of  God, 

And  appetite  wholly  resign'd. 

Ye  desolate  scenes,  to  your  solitude  led, 

My  life  I  in  praises  employ, 
And  scarce  know  the  source  of  the  tears  that  I  shed, 

Proceed  they  from  sorrow  or  joy. 


SCENES    FAVORABLE    TO    MEDITATION.  73 

There  is  nothing  I  seem  to  have  skill  to  discern, 

I  feel  out  my  way  in  the  dark, 
Love  reigns  in  my  bosom,  I  constantly  burn, 

Yet  hardly  distinguish  the  spark. 

I  live,  yet  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  dead, 

Such  a  riddle  is  not  to  be  found, 
I  am  nourished  without  knowing  how  I  am  fed, 

I  have  nothing,  and  yet  I  abound. 

Oh  !    Love  !   who  in  darkness  art  pleas'd  to  abide, 

Though  dimly,  yet  surely  I  see, 
That  these  contrarieties  only  reside 

In  the  soul  that  is  chosen  of  thee. 

Ah  !    send  me  not  back  to  the  race  of  mankind 

Perversely  by  folly  beguil'd, 
For  where  in  the  crowds  I  have  left,  shall  I  find 

The  spirit  and  heart  of  a  child  1 

Here  let  me,  though  flx'd  in  a  desert,  be  free, 

A  little  one  whom  they  despise, 
Though  lost  to  the  world,  if  in  union  with  thee, 

Shall  be  holy,  and  happy,  and  wise. 


6* 


ORIGINAL    POEMS. 


BY    THE    TRANSLATOR    OF    THE    FOREGOING    PIECES. 


AN  EPISTLE  TO  A  PROTESTANT  LADY  IN 
FRANCE. 

Madam, 

A  Stranger's  purpose  in  these  lays 
Is  to  congratulate,  and  not  to  praise. 
To  give  the  creature  her  Creator's  due, 
Were  sin  in  me,  and  an  offence  to  you. 
From  man  to  man,  or  e'en  to  woman  paid, 
Praise  is  the  medium  of  a  knavish  trade, 
A  coin,  by  craft  for  folly's  use  design'd, 
Spurious,  and  only  current  with  the  blind. 

The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  Land  where  sorrow  is  unknown  ; 
No  trav'ler  ever  reached  that  blest  abode, 
Who  found  not  thorns  and  briars  in  his  road. 
The  world  may  dance  along  the  flow'ry  plain, 
Cheer'd  as  they  go,  by  many  a  sprightly  strain, 
Where  Nature  has  her  mossy  velvet  spread, 
With  unshod  feet  they  yet  securely  tread, 
Admonish'd,  scorn  the  caution  and  the  friend, 
Bent  upon  pleasure,  heedless  of  its  end. 

But  he  who  knew  what  human  hearts  would  prove, 
How  slow  to  learn  the  dictates  of  his  Love, 
That  hard  by  nature,  and  of  stubborn  will, 
A  life  of  ease  would  make  them  harder  still, 


78  AN    EPISTLE,    &C. 

In  pity  to  the  sinners,  he  design'd 
To  rescue  from  the  ruins  of  mankind, 
Call'd  for  a  cloud  to  darken  all  their  years, 
And  said — "  go  spend  them  in  the  vale  of  tears." 
Oh  !    balmy  gales  of  soul-reviving  air, 
Oh  !    salutary  streams  that  murmur  there, 
These  flowing  from  the  Fount  of  Grace  above, 
Those  breath'd  from  lips  of  everlasting  Love, 
The  flinty  soil  indeed  their  feet  annoys, 
And  sudden  sorrow  nips  their  springing  joys, 
An  envious  world  will  interpose  its  frown 
To  mar  delights  superior  to  its  own, 
And  many  a  pang,  experienc'd  still  within, 
Reminds  them  of  their  hated  inmate,  Sin. 
But  ills  of  ev'ry  shape,  and  ev'ry  name 
Transform'd  to  blessings  miss  their  cruel  aim, 
And  ev'ry  moment's  calm  that  sooths  the  breast, 
Is  giv'n  in  earnest  of  Eternal  Rest. 

Ah  !   be  not  sad,  although  thy  lot  be  cast 
Far  from  the  flock,  and  in  a  distant  waste  ! 
No  shepherd's  tents  within  thy  view  appear, 
But  the  chief  Shepherd  is  for  ever  near. 
Thy  tender  sorrows,  and  thy  plaintive  strain 
Flow  in  a  foreign  land  but  not  in  vain, 
Thy  tears  all  issue  from  a  source  divine, 
And  ev'ry  drop  bespeaks  a  Saviour  thine — 
'Twas  thus  inGideon's  fleece  the  dews  were  found} 
And  drought  on  all  the  drooping  herbs  around. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

FRIENDSHIP. 

WHAT  Virtue  or  what  mental  grace 
But  men  unqualified  and  base 

Will  boast  it  their  possession  ? 
Profusion  apes  the  noble  part 
Of  Liberality  of  heart, 

And  dulness  of  discretion. 

If  ev'ry  polish'd  Gem  we  find 
Illuminating  heart  or  mind, 

Provoke  to  Imitation  ; 
No  wonder  Friendship  does  the  same, 
That  Jewel  of  the  purest  flame, 

Or  rather  Constellation. 

No  knave  but  boldly  will  pretend 
The  requisites  that  form  a  friend, 

A  real  and  a  sound  one, 
Nor  any  fool  he  would  deceive, 
But  prove  as  ready  to  believe, 

And  dream  that  he  has  found  one. 

Candid,  and  generous  and  just, 
Boys  care  but  little  whom  they  trust, 

An  error  soon  corrected — 
For  who  but  learns  in  riper  years, 
That  man  when  smoothest  he  appears 

Is  most  to  be  suspected  ?- 

But  here  again  a  danger  lies, 
Lest  having  misemploy'd  our  eyes, 
And  taken  trash  for  treasure, 


79 


80  FRIENDSHIP. 

We  should  unwarily  conclude 

Friendship  a  false  ideal  Good, 

A  mere  Utopian  pleasure. 

An  acquisition  rather  rare, 
Is  yet  no  subject  of  despair  ; 

Nor  is  it  wise  complaining, 
If  either  on  forbidden  ground, 
Or  where  it  was  not  to  be  found, 

We  sought  without  attaining. 

No  Friendship  will  abide  the  test 
That  stands  on  sordid  interest, 

Or  mean  self-love  erected ; 
Nor  such  as  may  awhile  subsist 
Between  the  Sot  and  Sensualist 

For  vicious  ends  connected. 

Who  seeks  a  Friend,  should  come  dispos'd 
T'  exhibit  in  full  bloom  disclos'd 

The  graces  and  the  beauties 
That  form  the  character  he  seeks, 
For  'tis  an  Union  that  bespeaks 

Reciprocated  duties. 

Mutual  attention  is  implied, 
And  equal  truth  on  either  side, 

And  constantly  supported  ; 
'Tis  senseless  arrogance  t'  accuse 
Another  of  sinister  views, 

Our  own  as  much  distorted. 


FRIENDSHIP.  81 

But  will  Sincerity  suffice  % 
It  is  indeed  above  all  price, 

And  must  be  made  the  basis ; 
But  ev'iy  virtue  of  the  soul 
Must  constitute  the  charming  whole, 

All  shining  in  their  places. 

A  fretful  temper  will  divide 

The  closest  knot  that  may  be  tied, 

By  ceaseless,  sharp  corrosion  ; 
A  temper  passionate  and  fierce 
May  suddenly  your  joys  disperse 

At  one  immense  explosion. 

In  vain  the  talkative  unite 

In  hopes  of  permanent  delight — 

The  secret  just  committed, 
Forgetting  its  important  weight, 
They  drop  through  mere  desire  to  prate, 

And  by  themselves  outwitted. 

How  bright  soe'er  the  prospect  seems, 

All  thoughts  of  Friendship  are  but  dreams, 

If  envy  chance  to  creep  in  ; 
An  envious  man,  if  you  succeed, 
May  prove  a  dang'rous  Friend  indeed, 

But  not  a  Friend  worth  keeping. 

As  envy  pines  at  good  possess'd, 
So  jealousy  looks  forth  distress'd 
On  good  that  seems  approaching, 
7 


82  FRIENDSHIP. 

And  if  success  his  steps  attend, 
Discerns  a  rival  in  a  friend, 

And  hates  him  for  encroaching. 

Hence  authors  of  illustrious  name, 
Unless  belied  by  common  fame, 

Are  sadly  prone  to  quarrel, 
To  deem  the  wit  a  friend  displays 
A  tax  upon  their  own  just  praise, 

And  pluck  each  other's  laurel. 

A  man  renown'd  for  repartee 
Will  seldom  scruple  to  make  free 

With  Friendship's  finest  feeling, 
Will  thrust  a  dagger  at  your  breast, 
And  say  he  wounded  you  in  jest, 

By  way  of  balm  for  healing. 

Whoever  keeps  an  open  ear 
For  tattlers,  will  be  sure  to  hear 

The  trumpet  of  contention  ; 
Aspersion  is  the  babbler's  trade, 
To  listen  is  to  lend  him  aid, 

And  rush  into  dissension. 

A  Friendship  that  in  frequent  fits 
Of  controversial  rage  emits 

The  sparks  of  disputation, 
Like  hand  in  hand  Insurance  plates, 
Most  unavoidably  creates 

The  thought  of  conflagration. 


FRIENDSHIP.  83 

Some  fickle  creatures  boast  a  soul 
True  as  the  needle  to  the  pole, 

Their  humor  yet  so  various — 
They  manifest  their  whole  life  through 
The  needle's  variation  too, 

Their  Love  is  so  precarious. 

The  great  and  small  but  rarely  meet 
On  terms  of  amity  complete, 

Plebians  must  surrender, 
And  yield  so  much  to  noble  folk, 
It  is  combining  fire  with  smoke, 

Obscurity  with  splendor. 

Some  are  so  placid  and  serene 
(As  Irish  bogs  are  always  green) 

They  sleep  secure  from  waking : 
And  are  indeed  a  bog  that  bears 
Your  unparticipated  cares 

Unmov'd,  and  without  quaking. 

Courtier  and  patriot  cannot  mix 
Their  het'rogeneous  politics, 

Without  an  effervescence 
Like  that  of  salts  with  lemon  juice, 
Which  does  not  yet  like  them  produce 

A  friendly  coalescence. 

Religion  should  extinguish  strife, 
And  make  a  calm  of  human  life ; 

But  friends  that  chance  to  differ 
On  points  which  God  has  left  at  large, 
How  fiercely  will  they  meet  and  charge, 

No  combatants  are  suffer  i 


84  FRIENDSHIP. 

To  prove  at  last  my  main  intent, 
Needs  no  expense  of  argument, 

No  cutting  and  contriving — 
Seeking  a  real  friend  we  seem 
T'  adopt  the  Chemist's  golden  dream       • 

With  still  less  hope  of  thriving. 

Sometimes  the  fault  is  all  our  own, 
Some  blemish  in  due  time  made  known 

By  trespass  or  omission  ; 
Sometimes  occasion  brings  to  light 
Our  friend's  defect  long  hid  from  sight, 

And  even  from  suspicion. 

Then  judge  yourself,  and  prove  your  man 
As  circumspectly  as  you  can, 

And  having  made  election, 
Beware  no  negligence  of  yours, 
Such  as  a  friend  but  ill  endures, 

Enfeeble  his  affection. 

That  secrets  are  a  sacred  trust, 

That  friends  should  be  sincere  and  just, 

That  constancy  befits  them, 
Are  observations  on  the  case 
That  savor  much  of  common  place, 

And  all  the  world  admits  them. 

But  'tis  not  timber,  lead,  and  stone, 
An  architect  requires  alone 

To  finish  a  fine  building — 
The  palace  were  but  half  complete, 
If  he  could  possibly  forget 

The  carving  and  the  gilding. 


FRIENDSHIP.  85 

The  man  that  hails  you,  Tom  or  Jack, 
And  proves  by  thumps  upon  your  back, 

How  he  esteems  your  merit, 
Is  such  a  friend,  that  one  had  need 
Be  very  much  his  friend  indeed 

To  pardon,  or  to  bear  it. 

As  similarity  of  mind, 

Or  something  not  to  be  defin'd, 

First  fixes  our  attention  ; 
So  manners  decent  and  polite, 
The  same  we  practis'd  at  first  sight 

Must  save  it  from  declension. 

Some  act  upon  the  prudent  plan, 
"  Say  little,  and  hear  all  you  can," 

Safe  policy,  but  hateful — 
So  barren  sands  imbibe  the  show'r, 
But  render  neither  fruit  nor  flow'r, 

Unpleasant  and  ungrateful. 

The  man  I  trust,  if  shy  to  me, 
Shall  find  me  as  reserv'd  as  he, 

No  subterfuge  or  pleading 
Shall  win  my  confidence  again, 
I  will  by  no  means  entertain 

A  Spy  on  my  proceeding. 

These  samples — for  alas  !    at  last 
These  are  but  samples,  and  a  taste 

Of  evils  yet  unmention'd — 
May  prove  the  task  a  task  indeed, 
In  which  'tis  much  if  we  succeed 

However  well  intention'd. 

7* 


86  FRIENDSHIP. 

Pursue  the  search,  and  you  will  find 
Good  sense,  and  knowledge  of  mankind 

To  be  at  least  expedient, 
And  after  summing  all  the  rest, 
Religion  ruling  in  the  breast 

A  principal  ingredient. 

The  noblest  Friendship  ever  shown 
The  Saviour's  history  makes  known, 

Though  some  have  turn'd,  and  turn'd  it, 
And  whether  being  craz'd  or  blind, 
Or  seeking  with  a  bias'd  mind, 

Have  not,  it  seems,  discern'd  it. 

Oh,  Friendship  !    if  my  soul  forego 
Thy  dear  delights  while  here  below  ; 

To  mortify  and  grieve  me, 
May  I  myself  at  last  appear 
Unworthy,  base,  and  insincere, 

Or  may  my  friend  deceive  me  ! 


STANZAS    SUBJOINED,    &C.  87 

STANZAS,  SUBJOINED  TO  A  BILL  OF 
MORTALITY 

FOR   THE     PARISH  OF   ALL     SAINTS,      IN  THE     TOWN    OF    NORTHAMPTON, 

ANNO    DOMINI    1787. 

Pallida  Mors  cequo pxdsat  pede pauperum  tabernas, 
Regumqueturres.  Horace, 

Pale  Death,  with  equal  foot,  strikes  wide  the  door 
Of  royal  halls,  and  hovels  of  the  poor. 

WHILE  thirteen  moons  saw  smoothly  run 

The  Nen's  barge-laden  wave, 
All  these,  Life's  rambling-  journey  done, 

Have  found  their  home,  the  Grave. 

Was  man  (frail  always,)  made  more  frail 

Than  in  foregoing  years  % 
Did  famine  or  did  plague  prevail, 

That  so  much  death  appears  1 

No.     These  were  vig'rous  as  their  sires, 

Nor  plague  nor  famine  came  ; 
This  annual  tribute  Death  requires, 

And  never  waives  his  claim. 

Like  crowded  forest-trees  we  stand, 

And  some  are  mark'd  to  fall  ; 
The  axe  will  smite  at  God's  command, 

And  soon  shall  smite  us  all. 


88  STANZAS    SUBJOINED 

Green  as  the  Bay-tree,  ever  green 

With  its  new  foliage  on, 
The  gay,  the  thoughtless,  I  have  seen, 

I  pass'd — and  they  were  gone. 

Read,  ye  that  run  !    the  solemn  truth 
With  which  I  charge  my  page  ; 

A  worm  is  in  the  bud  of  youth, 
And  at  the  root  of  age. 

No  present  health  can  health  insure, 

Forget  an  hour  to  come  ; 
No  med'cine  though  it  often  cure, 

Can  always  baulk  the  tomb. 

And  oh  !    that  humble  as  my  lot, 

And  scorn'd  as  is  my  strain, 
These  truths,  though  known,  too  much  forgot. 

I  may  not  teach  in  vain. 

So  prays  your  clerk  with  all  his  heart, 

And  ere  he  quits  the  pen, 
Begs  you  for  once  to  take  his  part, 

And  answer  all — Amen. 


TO    A    BILL    OF    MORTALITY.  89 

1788. 

Quod  adest,  memento 
Componere  cequus ;    ccctcrajluminis 
Ritxi  feruniur.  Hob  ace. 

Improve  the  present  hour,  for  all  heside, 
I3  a  mere  feather  on  a  torrent's  tide. 

COULD  I,  from  Heav'n  inspir'd,  as  sure  presage, 
To  whom  the  rising  year  shall  prove  Lis  last ; 
As  I  can  number  in  my  punctual  page, 
And  item  down  the  victims  of  the  past ; 

How  each  would  trembling  wait  the  mournful  sheet, 
On  which  the  press  might  stamp  him  next  to  die  ; 
And,  reading  here  his  sentence,  how  replete 
With  anxious  meaning,  Heav'n- ward  turn  his  eye ! 

Time,  then,  would  seem  more  precious  than  the  joys 
In  which  he  sports  away  the  treasure  now ; 
And  pray'r,  more  seasonable  than  the  noise 
Of  drunkards,  or  the  music-drawing  bow. 

Then,  doubtless,  many  a  trifler  on  the  brink 
Of  this  world's  hazardous  and  headlong  shore, 
Forc'd  to  a  pause,  would  feel  it  good  to  think, 
Told  that  his  setting  sun  must  rise  no  more. 

Ah  !    self-deceiv'd  !    could  T,  prophetic,  say, 
Who  next  is  fated,  and  who  next,  to  fall, 


90  STANZAS    SUBJOINED 

The  rest,  might  then  seem  privileg'd  to  play  ; 
But,  naming  none,  the  voice  now  speaks  to  all. 

Observe  the  dappled  foresters,  how  light 
They  bound,  and  airy,  o'er  the  sunny  glade — 
One  falls— the  rest  wide  scatter'd  with  affright, 
Vanish  at  once  into  the  darkest  shade. 

Had  we  their  wisdom,  should  we  often  warn'd, 
Still  need  repeated  warnings,  and  at  last, 
A  thousand  awful  admonitions  scorn'd, 
Die  self-accus'd  of  life  all  run  to  waste  ? 

Sad  waste  I    for  which  no  after-thrift  atones  : 
The  grave  admits  no  cure  for  guilt  or  sin. 
Dew-drops  may  deck  the  turf  that  hides  the  bones, 
But  tears  of  godly  grief  ne'er  flow  within. 

Learn  then,  ye  living  !    by  the  mouths  be  taught 
Of  all  these  sepulchres,  instructors  true, 
That,  soon  or  late,  Death  also  is  your  lot, 
And  the  next  op'ning  grave  may  yawn  for  you. 


1789. 

—Placidaq  ;    ibi  demum  morte  quievit. 

VlHG. 

There,  calm,  at  length,  he  breath'd  his  soul  away. 

"  OH  !    most  delightful  hour  by  man 
"  Experienc'd  here  below, 


TO    A    BILL    OF    MORTALITY.  91 

"  The  hour  that  terminates  his  span, 
"  His  folly,  and  his  woe  ! 

"  Worlds  should  not  bribe  me  back  to  tread, 

"  Again  life's  dreary  waste, 
"  To  see  again  my  day  o'erspread 

"  With  all  the  gloomy  past. 

u  My  Home  henceforth  is  in  the  skies, 

"  Earth,  Seas,  and  Sun,  adieu ! 
11  All  Heav'n  unfolded  to  my  eyes, 

11 1  have  no  sight  for  you." 

So  spake  Aspasio,  firm  possess'd 

Of  Faith's  supporting  rod, 
Then  breath'd  his  soul  into  its  rest, 

The  bosom  of  his  God. 

He  was  a  man  among  the  few, 

Sincere  on  Virtue's  side  ; 
And  all  his  strength  from  Scripture  drew, 

To  hourly  use  apply 'd. 

That  rule  he  priz'd,  by  what  he  fear'd, 

He  hated,  hop'd  and  lov'd  ; 
Nor  ever  frown'd,  or  sad  appear'd, 

But  when  his  heart  had  rov'd. 

For  he  was  frail  as  thou  or  I, 

And  evil  felt  within  ; 
But  when  he  felt  it,  heav'd  a  sigh, 

And  loath'd  the  thought  of  sin. 


92  STANZAS    SUBJOINED 

Such  liv'd  Aspasio  ;    and,  at  last, 
Call'd  up  from  Earth  to  Heav'n, 

The  gulph  of  Death  triumphant  pass'd. 
By  gales  of  blessing  driv'n. 

His  joys  be  mine,  each  Reader  cries, 
When  my  last  hour  arrives  ! 

They  shall  be  yours,  my  verse  replies, 
Such  only  be  your  lives. 


1790. 

Ne  commonentem  recta  sperne. 
Despise  not  my  good  counsel. 


BuCHANNAX. 


HE  who  sits  from  day  to  day, 
Where  the  prison'd  Lark  is  hung, 

Heedless  of  his  loudest  lay, 

Hardly  knows  that  he  has  sung. 

Where  the  watchman  in  his  round 
Nightly  lifts  his  voice  on  high, 

None,  accustom'd  to  the  sound, 
Wakes  the  sooner  for  his  cry. 

So  your  verse-man  I,  and  clerk, 
Yearly  in  my  song  proclaim 

Death  at  hand — yourselves  his  mark- 
And  the  foe's  unerring  aim. 


TO    A    BILL    OF    MORTALITY.  93 

Duly  at  my  time  I  come, 

Publishing  to  all  aloud — 
Soon  the  grave  must  be  your  home, 

And  your  only  suit,  a  shroud. 

But  the  monitory  strain, 

Oft  repeated  in  your  ears, 
Seems  to  sound  too  much  in  vain, 

Wins  no  notice,  wakes  no  fears. 

Can  a  truth,  by  all  confess'd, 

Of  such  magnitude  and  weight, 
Grow,  by  being  oft  compress'd, 

Trivial  as  a  parrot's  prate  ? 

Pleasure's  call  attention  wins, 

Hear  it  often  as  we  may  ; 
New  as  ever  seem  our  sins, 

Though  committed  ev'ry  day. 

Death  and  Judgment,  Heav'n  and  Hell, 

These  alone,  so  often  heard, 
No  more  move  us  than  the  bell, 

When  some  stranger  is  interr'd. 

Oh  !    then,  ere  the  turf  or  tomb 

Cover  us  from  ev'ry  eye, 
Spirit  of  instruction,  come, 

Make  us  learn  that  we  must  die ! 


94  STANZAS    SUBJOINED 


1792. 

Felix,  qui  potuit  rerum  cognoscere  causas, 
Quiq :    metus  omnes  et  inexorabile  fatum 
Subjecit pedibus,  strepitumq  ;  Acherontis  avari ! 

Happy  the  mortal,  who  has  trac'd  effects 
To  their  first  cause,  cast  fear  beneath  his  feet 
And  Death,  and  roaring-  Hell's  voracious  fires 

THANKLESS  for  favors  from  on  high, 
Man  thinks  he  fades  too  soon  ; 

Though  'tis  his  privilege  to  die 
Would  he  improve  the  boon. 

But  he  not  wise  enough  to  scan 

His  best  concerns  aright, 
Would  gladly  stretch  life's  little  span 

To  ages,  if  he  might. 

To  ages  in  a  world  of  pain — 

To  ages  where  he  goes, 
Gall'd  by  afflictions  heavy  chain, 

And  hopeless  of  repose. 

Strange  fondness  of  the  human  heart, 

Enamor'd  of  its  harm  ! 
Strange  world,  that  costs  it  so  much  smart, 

And  still  has  pow'r  to  charm. 

Whence  has  the  world  her  magic  pow'r  ? 
Why  deem  we  death  a  foe  ? 


TO    A     BILL    OF    MORTALITY.  95 

Recoil  from  weary  life's  best  hour, 
And  covet  longer  woe  1 

The  cause  is  Conscience — Conscience  oft 

Her  tale  of  guilt  renews  ; 
Her  voice  is  terrible,  though  soft. 


And  dread  of  death  ensues. 


Then  anxious  to  be  longer  spar'd, 
Man  mourns  his  fleeting  breath ; 

All  evils,  then  seem  light,  compar'd 
With  the  approach  of  death. 

'Tis  Judgment  shakes  him  ;  there's  the  fear 
That  prompts  the  wish  to  stay  ; 

He  has  incurr'd  a  long  arrear, 
And  must  despair  to  pay. 

Pay  ! — follow  Christ,  and  all  is  paid  ; 

His  death  your  peace  insures ; 
Think  on  the  grave,  where  he  was  laid, 

And  calm  descend  to  yours. 


96  STANZAS    SUBJOINED 


1793. 

Desacris  autern  hcec  sit  unasententia,  ut  conservenlur. 

Cicero  de  legibus. 

But  let  us  all  concur  in  this  sentiment,  that  things  sacred  be 
inviolate. 

HE  lives  who  lives  to  God,  alone  ; 

And  all  are  dead  beside  ; 
For  other  source  than  God,  is  none 

Whence  life  can  be  supplied. 

To  live  to  God,  is  to  requite 

His  love  as  best  we  may  ; 
To  make  his  precepts  our  delight, 

His  promises  our  stay. 

But  life,  within  a  narrow  ring 

Of  giddy  joys  compris'd, 
Is  falsely  nam'd,  and  no  such  thing, 

But  rather  death  disguis'd. 

Can  life  in  them  deserve  the  name, 

Who  only  live,  to  prove 
For  what  poor  toys,  they  can  disclaim 

An  endless  life  above  ? 

Who,  much  diseas'd,  yet  nothing  feel ; 

Much  menac'd,  nothing  dread  ; 
Have  wounds,  which  only  God  can  heal, 

Yet  never  ask  his  aid  ! 


TO    A    BILL    OF    MORTALITY.  97 

Who  deem  his  house  an  useless  place  ; 

Faith,  want  of  common  sense  ; 
And  ardor  in  the  christian  race, 

A  hypocrite's  pretence  ! 

Who  trample  order  ;  and  the  day 

Which  God  asserts  his  own, 
Dishonour  with  unhallow'd  play, 

And  worship  chance  alone  ! 

If  scorn  of  God's  commands,  impress'd 

On  word  and  deed,  imply 
The  better  part  of  man,  unbless'd 

With  life  that  cannot  die  ; 

Such  want  it ; — and  that  want,  uncur'd 

Till  man  resign  his  breath, 
Speaks  him  a  criminal,  assur'd 

Of  everlasting  death. 

Sad  period  to  a  pleasant  course  ! 

Yet  so  will  God  repay 
Sabbaths  profan'd  without  remorse, 

And  Mercy  cast  away. 


8* 


98  AN    EPITAPH. 

AN  EPITAPH  ON  MR.  T.  A.  HAMILTON 

IN    THE    CHURCH-YARD    OF    NEWPORT-PAQN'EL. 

PAUSE  here,  and  think.     A  monitory  rhyme 
Demands  one  moment  of  thy  fleeting  time. 

Consult  life's  silent  clock,  thy  bounding  vein  ; 
Seems  it  to  say — (i  Health,  here,  has  long  to  reign  ?': 
Hast  thou  the  vigor  of  thy  youth  ? — an  eye 
That  beams  delight  ? — a  heart  untaught  to  sigh  % 
Yet  fear.     Youth,  oft  times  healthful  and  at  ease, 
Anticipates  a  day  it  never  sees  ; 
And  many  a  tomb,  like  Hamilton's,  aloud 
Exclaims,  "  Prepare  thee  for  an  early  shroud." 


WREATH  OF  FORGET-ME-NOT 


PRESENTED 


TO  THOSE  WHO  LOVE  TO  REFLECT 


HEAVENLY    THINGS 


In  every  state,  in  every  part. 

To  God.  thy  great  Redeemer,  raise  thy  heart. 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    ORIGINAL    GERMAN, 


M  .     YEAKDLY 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  piety  and  simplicity  evinced  in  this  little  selec- 
tion from  a  religious  German  poet,  have  induced  me  to 
attempt  to  render  his  thoughts  into  English. 

It  has  been  necessary,  in  some  instances,  to  alter  the 
titles,  and  lengthen  the  verses,  in  order  to  make  them 
explicit  in  our  language. 

M.  Y. 


A  WREATH  OF  FORGET-ME-NOT. 


THE  SPRING. 


Oh  that  my  spirit  might,  through  grace, 
Become  so  still  and  clean — 

Clear  as  a  spring  on  whose  fair  face 
The  lior-ht  of  heaven  is  seen. 


'c=J 


How  beauteous  then,  within  my  breast, 
The  light  of  God  would  shine  ; 

How  would  His  image  be  imprest, 
And  prove  the  work  divine  ! 


BLOSSOM  AND  FRUIT. 

Like  the  blossom,  thy  intentions, 

Too  quickly  form'd  to  stay, 
Spread  through  the  mind  in  wide  dimensions, 

Yet  soon  they  fade  away. 

What  fruit  will  then  retain  its  station, 
When  cold  and  storm  draw  near  ; 

When  winter  shakes  the  wThole  creation, 
How  then  wilt  thou  appear  ? 


102  THE    FLOWERS. 


THE  LAMB. 


Ah  !    were  I  like  the  gentle  lamb, 
Never  straying  from  its  dam  ; 

Patient,  innocent,  and  pure, 

Ever  willing  to  endure  ; 

Meek  as  Him  who  led  the  way, 

To  the  realms  of  endless  day  ; — 
That  all  might  read  my  blessed  Saviour 
In  my  conduct  and  behaviour. 


SPIRITUAL    FOOD. 

Self-denial  is  the  meat, 
Prayer  is  the  daily  bread : — 

When  from  either  we  retreat, 
How  shall  our  souls  be  fed  % 


THE  FLOWERS. 

See,  the  flowers  meekly  bending 
At  the  breath  of  blooming  May, 

See,  the  sun,  in  power  ascending, 
Unfold  their  beauties  to  the  day  ! 

So  would  thy  God,  thy  heart  unfolding 
Cause  his  life  and  light  to  shine  ; 

Nothing  from  thy  prayer  withholding, 
Fill  thy  soul  with  love  divine. 


WHY    SO    PROUD? 


DIVINE    LOVE. 


103 


He  who  dwells  in  heav'nly  love, 

Who  draws  his  strength  from  God  above, 

Will  nobly  act  his  part  through  time  ; 
He  eats,  he  drinks,  he  takes  his  rest, 
With  love  and  gratitude  impress'd, 

And  sees  through  faith,  a  happier  clime. 


THE  SHEPHERD. 

I  am  the  shepherd  of  a  fold  ; 

My  sheep  are  wand'ring  thoughts  and  cares,- 
These  I  must  seek  in  pens  to  hold, 

When  for  its  God  my  heart  prepares. 

Then  must  I  strive  to  shut  them  fast 
Within  the  fold  of  heavenly  love, 

Lest  they  should  wander,  and  at  last 
Feed  far  away,  and  love  to  rove. 


WHY  SO  PROUD? 

Nothing  is  thine  ! — How  soon  will  be  ended, 
Poor  helpless  mortal,  thy  perishing  term  ! 

A  thread  of  mere  grace  for  thy  aid  is  extended, 
And  only  exalts  thee  above  the  poor  worm. 


104  THE    HERMIT. 

THE  HIDDEN  LIFE. 

How  blessed  is  that  simple  heart, 

Which  lives  to  God  alone  ! 
His  mercy  sees  in  every  part, 

And  dwells  before  his  throne  ; 
Alike  in  joys,  alike  in  pains, 

It  stands  secure  and  still, 
While  faith  ihrough  every  change  sustains 

To  do  the  Master's  will. 
Thus  may  it  pass  through  want  and  strife, 
And  rise,  through  death,  to  peace  and  life. 


THE  SUNBEAM. 

God  is  the  sun,  and  what  am  I  ? 

A  little  gleam  of  light, 
Lost  in  his  vast  infinity, 

Yet  open  to  his  sight. 

When  I  wander  from  His  care, 
The  gleam  of  light  soon  fades  ; 

I  feel  as  dust — and  deep  despair 
My  darken'd  soul  pervades. 


THE  HERMIT. 

While  the  whole  world,  in  vanity  and  pleasure, 
Still  rove  unthinking  of  the  future  day, 


THE    CELL.  105 

Seeking  in  present  joy  a  fleeting  treasure, 
My  spirit  in  a  desert  pines  away. 

In  my  own  heart  must  I  my  treasure  find, 
My  cot,  my  home,  the  solace  of  my  breast, 

My  wishes  and  my  cares  to  this  confin'd, 
Shall  centre  in  my  God,  and  be  at  rest. 


A  PILGRIM'S  THOUGHT. 

The  world  itself,  and  even  thou — 

Thy  tenement  of  clay — 
Is  but  a  house  of  short  abode, 

Which  hourly  falls  away. 

Think,  when  oppress'd  with  grief  and  cares, 
The  time  will  soon  draw  nigh, 

When  thou  shalt  have  a  lasting  house, 
A  mansion  in  the  sky  ! 


THE  CELL. 

My  heart's  deep  centre  is  the  cell, 
Wherein  I  live  with  God  alone  ; 

There  springs  for  me  that  living  well, 
Which  flows  from  his  eternal  throne. 

May  I  for  ever  there  abide, 

Enclosed  in  faith  and  love  divine  ; 

To  Him  my  cares,  my  hopes  confide, 
To  him  my  erring  heart  resign, 
9 


106  THE    SERPENT. 


GOOD  OUT  OF  EVIL. 

Mine  enemy  is  oft  my  friend, 
Though  wrathful  and  severe  ; 

He  helps  to  perfect  that  great  end 
For  which  I  linger  here. 

Against  that  selfish  will  he  strives, 
Which  gives  me  constant  pain ; 

And  to  that  heavenly  Fountain  drives, 
Which  never  flows  in  vain. 


THE  SERPENT. 

Sin  is  a  smiling  wily  thing, 

And  like  the  serpent  hides  its  sting 

In  folds  of  varied  hue  ; — 
In  trifles  makes  its  first  essay, 
Then  spreads  its  colors  to  the  day, 

Its  victim  to  subdue. 

Ah  then  how  frightful  it  appears, 
How  often  bathed  in  rueful  tears  ; 

Let  heedless  youth  beware  ! 
Approach  not  near, — its  baneful  breath 
Is  poison,  and  its  bite  is  death ; 

O  shun  the  serpent's  snare ! 


SUBMISSION.  07 


SELF-WILL. 


Wilt  thou  take  the  counsel  flowing, 
Which,  from  long  experience  growing, 

Would  thy  peace  insure  ? — 
Not  doing  what  thou  deem'st  befitting, 
And  what  thou  would'st  do,  that  omitting, 

Will  happiness  secure. 
For,  learn  !    whatever  be  thy  station, 
The  Cross  alone  is  thy  salvation  ! 


MOTHER  AND  CHILD. 

When  with  thy  God  thou  dost  not  dwell, 
Ask  not  why  thou  wanders  wide  ;— 

Ask  not  why  the  infant  fell, 

Who  dwelt  not  by  its  mother's  side. 


SUBMISSION. 

Receive  what  comes,  whate'er  it  be, 
Submissive  to  that  high  decree, 

Which  wills  eternal  good  ; 
Though  rough  the  shell  by  nature  given, 
The  kernel  is  the  will  of  heaven, 

The  most  substantial  food. 


108  ALWAYS    PREPARING. 

THE  REFUGE. 

Art  thou  oppressed  or  revil'd  1 
Then  act  but  like  a  simple  child, 
Who  does  not  dare  the  point  contest, 
Bat  hastens  to  its  mother's  breast ; 
Bows  in  submission  to  her  laws, 
And  leaves  her  to  support  its  cause. 
Thus  to  thy  blessed  Saviour  flee ; 
Stand  still !— thy  God  shall  fight  for  thee. 


THE  GOSPEL. 

By  Christ  is  God  to  thee  made  dear, — 

E'en  as  a  friend  is  ever  near 

To  hear  thy  cry,  to  sooth  thy  pain  ; 

Through  Him  who  died  and  rose  again. 

He  calls  for  thy  devoted  heart, 

And  would  his  choicest  gifts  impart, — 

Would  sanctify  this  house  of  prayer, 

Then  deign  to  make  his  dwelling  there. 


ALWAYS  PREPARING. 

Ah  wherefore,  vain  mortal,  for  ever  preparing 

Materials  thy  building  to  raise, 
When  for  its  commencement  so  little  thou'rt  caring. 

Impeded  by  useless  delays  % 


TEARS  OP  JOY  AND  SORROW.  109 

To  the  work  !  to  the  work  !  lest  time  should  be  ending, 
And  thou  should'st  behold  it  amazed  ; 

Lest  quickly  thy  frame  to  the  grave  be  descending, 
And  thy  temple  should  never  be  raised. 


RICH  AND  POOR. 

He  who  believes,  is  rich  and  great, 
Has  promise  of  that  blest  estate, 

Where  dwells  the  Eternal  Word  ;- 
lie  who  believes,  is  little,  poor  ; 
A  humble  suppliant  at  the  door, 

He  cries,  "  Have  mercy,  Lord  !" 


EVER  AT  HOME. 

My  Saviour  is  still  ever  near  : 


He  speaks  to  me  both  soft  and  clear, 
His  providence  surrounds, 
His  tender  love  abounds, 
No  eye  can  him  elude, 
No  place  can  him  exclude  ; 
To  whatsoever  part  we  roam, 
Who  dwells  with  Him  is  still  at  home. 


TEARS  OF  JOY  AND  SORROW. 

If  over  thy  unnumber'd  errors 

The  tears  of  penitence  should  flow, 
9* 


110  THE    HIDDEN    SPARK. 

Soon  shall  thy  mind,  disarm'd  of  terrors, 
Feel  the  bright  spark  of  mercy  glow. 

Soon  shall  thy  joyful  tears  bedew 
That  saving  grace  by  Him  reveal'd, 

Who  comes  our  spirits  to  renew. 

And  grant  to  prayer  a  pardon  seal'd. 


DAILY  BREAD. 

Anticipate  not  future  cares, 
Since  God  for  his  own  work  prepares  ; 
In  his  own  time  gives  light  and  power, 
As  warms  the  sun  the  opening  flower  ; 
Thou  canst  have  nothing  in  advance, 
Yet  nothing  is  the  sport  of  chance  ; 
Thou  must  by  faith,  not  sight,  be  led, — 
What  would'st  thou  more  than  daily  bread  % 


THE  HIDDEN  SPARK. 

Art  thou  awaken'd  1 — art  thou  moved, 
To  see  how  God  the  world  has  lov'd  % 
O  keep  this  little  spark  divine  ! 
Conceal'd  within  that  sacred  shrine, 
An  humble  heart,  an  open  fire 
Exposed  to  air  will  soon  expire  ; 
A  mind  which  knows  not  to  withhold, 
Exhausted  soon,  will  soon  grow  cold. 


RESIGNATION  111 

THE  BLESSED  CROSS. 

When  under  the  cross  thou'rt  ready  to  sink, 
Oppress'd  by  anxieties,  wearied  in  mind, 

O  !  think  on  thy  Saviour  who  stood  on  the  brink, 
Who  pass'd  the  dread  deep  for  the  sins  of  mankind. 

Remember,  the  Cross  is  the  means  now  afforded 
To  brighten  the  metal  which  rust  has  impair'd, 

That  thou  may'st  in  the  Book  of  the  Lamb  be  recorded, 
And  inherit  the  mansion  which  He  has  prepared. 


SINCERITY. 

Perform  thy  part  with  cheerful  mind  ; 
Do  thy  best  with  heart  resign'd  ; 
Keep  faithfully  thy  heavenly  call, 
Whatsoever  may  befall ; 
Do  all  as  to  thy  God  alone, 
Who  sees  thee  from  his  sacred  throne  ; — 
Then,  whether  thou  succeed  or  fail, 
Distiessing  fears  shall  not  prevail ; 
When  God  is  pleas'd,  shall  man  despise 
The  humble,  heartfelt,  sacrifice  7 


RESIGNATION. 

Nothing  choosing,  or  resisting  j 
Doing  all  things,  God  assisting  ; 


112  CONSTANT    PRAYER. 

To  His  will  thine  own  resigning  ; 
In  His  path  thy  steps  confining : 
At  His  call  submissive  yielding  ; 
Where  He  spreads  thy  table,  feeding ; 
Poor  pilgrim,  these  will  give  thee  rest, 
Though  anxious,  wearied,  and  distrest. 


TAKE  NO  THOUGHT  FOR  THE  MORROW. 

The  present  time  is  only  thine ; 

Think  not  upon  the  morrow ; 
Obscure  as  silver  in  the  mine, 

It  may  bring  joy  or  sorrow. 

Do  well  to-day,  and  meekly  trust ; 

God  will  be  ever  true — 
Will  still  be  kind,  will  still  be  just, 

And  care  for  thee  anew. 


CONSTANT  PRAYER. 

There  was  a  period  when  I  chose 
A  time  and  place  for  prayer  ; 

At  morning  dawn  or  evening  close, 
My  feet  would  wander  there  : — 

But  now  I  seek  that  constant  prayer. 
In  inward  stillness  known, 

And  thus  my  spirit  every  where 
Can  dwell  with  God  alone, 


RUN    AND    BE    NOT    WEARY.  113 

THE  INNER  TEMPLE. 

Within  the  temple  of  thy  heart, 

Offer  the  incense  faith  inspires  ; 
Perform  through  grace,  that  sacred  part 

Which  thy  gracious  Lord  requires. 

In  stillness,  meekness,  at  his  feet 

In  deep  humility  appear  ; 
Seek  only  what  he  sees  is  meet, 

Then  wilt  thou  feel  his  presence  near. 


GOLGOTHA. 

Be  not  discouraged,  child  of  tears, 
When  hard  and  rough  thy  path  appears 
The  tender  child,  though  highly  prized, 
By  its  fond  parent  is  chastised. 

When  gold  is  in  the  furnace  tried, 
The  Great  Refiner  stands  beside  ; 
Who  has  not  learnt  this  lesson  given, — 
"  Golgotha  is  the  way  to  Heav'n  ?" 


RUN  AND  BE  NOT  WEARY. 

How  sweet  is  the  pilgrim's  retreat, 
When  wearied  with  travel  and  care  ; 

How  grateful  to  hunger  is  meat, 
How  consoling  a  friend  in  despair. 


114  INGRATITUDE. 

0  be  not  distress'd  or  dismay'd, 
Though  thorns  in  thy  path  should  arise ; 

If  in  faith  and  in  patience  array'd, 
Thou  wilt  surely  inherit  the  prize. 


THE  BROKEN  WILL. 

Working  wonders, — revelation, — 
All  the  blessings  of  creation  ; 
To  cling  to  wealth  and  fame  no  more, 
And  give  in  alms  our  earthly  store  ; 
To  fast,  to  pray,  be  dead  to  sense, 
To  speak  with  angel-eloquence, — 
These  outward  works  can  never  give 
That  life  which  makes  the  christian  live, 
Nor  can  his  soul  with  consolation  fill, 
Like  a  devoted  heart  and  broken  will. 


INGRATITUDE. 

Think  what  thy  God  for  thee  has  given. 

Even  his  best  belov'd, 
That  thou  might  be  an  heir  of  Heaven, 

Spotless  and  unreprov'd. 

If  thou  wilt  not  for  Him  resign 
Thy  all, — by  love  subdued, — 

Ah  think,  what  in  His  sight  divine, 
Is  thine  ingratitude  ! 


THE    VALUE    OF    TIME.  115 

TRUST  AND  FOLLOW. 

Upon  thy  God  must  thou  rely, 

In  blindness  venture  all ; 
Nor  dare  complain,  nor  question  why  ; 

In  faith  obey  his  call. 
And  thy  whole  being  with  Him  leave, 

In  singleness  of  heart ; 
By  losing  self,  from  Him  receive 

A  brighter,  better  part, 
Thus  bow  beneath  His  holy  hand, 

Who  gives  whate'e:  thou  needs  ; 
Hear  and  obey  his  blest  command, 

And  ask  not  where  it  leads. 


NATURE  AND  GRACE. 

Nature  seeks  the  power  to  reign, 

Grace  fcr  strength  to  suffer  pain  ; 

By  time  and  trial  rendered  wise, 

We  see  the  source  from  whence  they  rise  : 

The  first  is  bread  without  its  leaven, 

The  last  that  food  which  comes  from  Heaven. 


THE  VALUE  OF  TIME. 

A  moment  of  the  accepted  time  of  grace, 
Is  far  more  precious  than  all  earthly  gain  ; 

O  lose  it  not !  but  run  thy  heavenly  race 
In  faith,  in  hope — thou  shalt  not  run  in  vain. 


116  SIMPLICITY. 

Behold,  time  flies, — eternity  is  near ! 

Here  must  that  pure  immortal  seed  be  sown, 
Here  upon  earth  that  blessed  fruit  appear, 

Which  will  be  reap'd  before  th'  Eternal  Throne. 


COME  AS  THOU  ART. 

Why  wilt  thou  for  ever  thyself  be  observing, 
And  mourning  the  wounds  so  evident  there  ; 

From  the  bless'd  Physician  in  diffidence  swerving, 
And  leaving  thy  heart  to  the  pangs  of  despair  ? 

O  come  as  thou  art,  and  partake  of  that  healing, 
Still  freely  dispensed  for  the  cure  of  disease  ; 

Which  while  to  repentance  its  solace  revealing, 
Assures  that  Grace  only  can  lead  us  to  peace. 


SIMPLICITY. 

Reason,  however  bright  and  clear, 
Is  like  the  moon  in  borrow'd  light, 

Which  shines  not  when  the  sun  is  near, 
And  often  veils  her  face  by  night. 

Still  let  her  reign  o'er  earthly  things, 
But  be  not  by  her  snares  beguil'd ; 

If  thou  would'st  drink  at  heav'nly  springs, 
Thou  must  become  a  simple  child. 


THE    ABYSS.  117 

DUTY  OF  THE  DAY. 

Ever  to  confess  thy  Saviour 

In  thy  conduct  and  behavior  ; 

To  be  contented  with  thy  state, 

And  humbly  at  his  footstool  wait  ; 

To  love  Him  steadfastly  through  all, 

Be  ever  ready  at  his  call ; 

Whate'er  He  gives  with  meekness  take, 

And  pardon  others  for  His  sake ; 

Still  for  increasing  faith  to  pray, 

Through  the  toils  of  every  day. 


VICISSITUDE. 

Sunshine  follows  after  rain, 


After  storm  the  summer's  day ; 
Ease  and  comfort  follow  pain, 

And  faith  and  hope  succeed  dismay. 

Soon  comes  the  day,  soon  comes  the  night, 
Ere  the  heavenly  race  be  won, 

And  soon  the  pilgrim,  rob'd  in  light, 

Shall  sing  with  joy,  "  My  work  is  done." 


THE  ABYSS. 

Dwell  not  upon  thy  varied  woes, 
But  take  the  cup  that  still  o'erflows 
With  grace  and  heavenly  love. 
10 


118  SELF-ACTIVITY. 

Thy  Saviour  still  will  hear  thy  prayer, 
E'en  from  the  abyss  of  deep  despair, 

And  raise  thy  thoughts  above. 
Array'd  in  light  he  comes  to  save, 
To  sanctify  the  life  He  gave, 

And  blessed  hopes  inspire  ; 
He  comes, — the  rays  of  mercy  beam ; 
He  comes,  the  sinner  to  redeem, — 

A  brand  pluck'd  from  the  fire. 


THE  SENSES. 

The  eyes,  the  ears,  the  tongue,  the  mein, 

As  we  pass  each  varied  scene, 

Are  the  doors  through  which  we  stray 

From  "  the  strait  and  narrow  way." 

Dost  thou  wander  far  and  wide, 

Follow  fashion's  flowing  tide  ? — 

So  wilt  thou  bring,  where'er  thou  roam, 

Pain,  disgust,  and  sorrow  home. 


SELF-ACTIVITY. 

Seeking  every  varied  change, 
Ever  passing  through  the  range 
Of  place,  of  state,  of  exercise, — 
Hoping  to  obtain  the  prize  ; 
Vain  mortal,  this  is  not  the  way 
To  the  realms  of  endless  day ; 


GOOD    COUNSEL.  119 

Let  grace  subdue  thy  active  will, 
Then  wilt  thou  be  resigned  and  still. 


THE  SINNER. 

Art  thou  discouraged  at  thy  state 
Of  weakness,  sin,  and  shame  ; 

Retire,  and  seek  on  him  to  wait, 
Whose  mighty  power  o'ercame. 

Forget  thyself,  and  ask  his  grace, 

So  shalt  thou  find  him  near, 
To  arm  thee  for  the  heavenly  race, 

And  overcome  thy  fear. 
If  constant  by  thy  Captain's  side, 

And  faithful  in  the  fight, 
Thou  shalt  become,  however  tried, 

A  child  of  heavenly  light. 


GOOD  COUNSEL. 

When  thou  good  actions  wouldst  fulfil, 
And  no  man  will  receive  them, 

Do  what  appears  yet  better  still, 
In  resignation  leave  them ! 


120  TIME    AND    ETERNITY. 

LETTER  AND  SPIRIT. 

O  wander  not  still  round  the  mountain, 

Whose  earth  the  sacied  spring  conceals, 
But  venture  in,  and  taste  the  fountain 

Which  eternal  life  reveals. 
So  shalt  thou  purest  bliss  inherit, 

If  humble,  faithful,  and  resign'd  ; 
But  if  the  letter  kill,  the  spirit 

Thou  wilt  seek  in  vain  to  find. 
Who  wanders  thus,  is  restless  and  opprest,- 
Who  finds  his  God,  is  thankful  and  at  rest. 


EVER  PURSUING. 

Strive  yet  more  holy  to  become, 

Seeking  daily  help  from  heaven, 
Ere  be  spent  the  little  sum 

Of  health  and  strength  in  mercy  given. 
O  think.  "  To-day  I'll  strive  anew 

In  faith  my  heavenly  race  to  run, 
The  path  of  duty  to  pursue, — 

As  yet  there  is  but  little  done." 


TIME  AND  ETERNITY. 

Self-denial,  living  faith, 
Warfare,  suffering,  and  death, 
Are  the  pilgrim's  work  through  time  ; 
Enjoyment,  rest,  and  holy  praise, 


SELF-LOVE.  121 


The  song  of  gratitude  to  raise, 
Will  follow  in  a  happier  clime. 


THE    WARFARE. 

To  feel  the  tempter's  power,  and  not  to  yield, 
Is  the  result  of  God's  preserving  grace  ; 
To  suffer  wrong,  and  yet  no  weapon  wield, 
Is,  in  degree,  the  Saviour's  steps  to  trace. 


EVENTIDE. 

Lovely  evening,  soft  and  still, 
Beaming  o'er  yon  glowing  hill ; 
How  I  love  thy  power  to  feel 
Gently  o'er  my  passions  steal, 
Soothing  all  by  sacred  thought, 
Till,  into  pure  obedience  wrought, 
My  spirit  seeks  its  God  alone, 
An  humble  suppliant  at  his  throne. 


SELF-LOVE. 

To  whom  does  thy  self-love  give  pain  or  distress  1 
Think !  let  it  sink  deep  in  thy  heart ! 

Thy  faults  will  not  others  be  call'd  to  confess, 
Thou  only  wilt  suffer  the  smart. 

Othen  let  thy  anger  fall  on  thy  own  mind, 
And  endure  the  result  of  thy  wrong ; 
10* 


122  THE    CROSS. 

Thine  enemy  there  has  this  evil  design'd\ 
And  he  is  both  subtile  and  strong. 


GOSPEL  LIGHT. 

Child  of  mercy,  mayst  thou  never 

Forget  what  God  has  done  for  thee, — 
From  vanity  and  vice  to  sever, 

To  break  thy  bonds,  and  set  thee  free. 
Think,  how  many  in  creation 

Yet  dwell  beneath  the  shades  of  night, 
Whilst,  through  the  power  of  Revelation, 

Thou  art  brought  to  life  and  light. 


THE  CROSS. 

Ah  wherefore  thus  fly  from  the  cross 

Which  thy  Saviour  has  borne  for  thy  sake  ? 
It  will  lead  thee  to  pain  and  remorse, 

With  anguish  thy  steps  to  retake. 
Behold  thy  Redeemer,  a  id  weep, 

That  his  power  thou  should'st  dare  to  deny ;. 
Let  thy  sorrow,  like  Peter's,  be  deep, 

Reproved  by  the  glance  of  his  eye. 
No  longer  the  warfare  withstand, 

But  bravely  go  forth  in  his  might ;. 
When  resign'd  to  the  word  of  command, 

Thou  wilt  find  that  his  burden  is  light. 


THE    OPPRESSED.  123 

JOY  AND  SORROW. 

Take  not  thy  flight  when  joy  surrounds, 

For  that  will  quickly  pass  away  ; 
Sink  not  too  deep  when  sorrow  wounds, 

But  hope  to  see  a  brighter  day. 
Flee  to  thy  Saviour ;  yield  the  rein 

Into  His  all-directing  hand  ; 
Let  Him  impel,  let  Him  restrain, 

And  follow  his  divine  command  : 
So  shalt  thou  live,  unmov'd  by  earthly  things, 
A  peaceful  subject  of  the  King  of  Kings. 


THE  SHEPHERD  AND  THE  SHEEP. 

When,  through  un  watch  fulness,  my  mind 

Is  tempted  far  to  roam, 
A  gentle,  peaceful  crook,  inclined, 

Invites  the  wanderer  home  : 
So  cares  my  Shepherd  for  his  sheep, 

And  shelters  from  the  foe, 
O  that  I  could  but  centre  deep, 

To  feel  his  mercy  glow. 


THE  OPPRESSED. 

Howe'er  afflicted,  cast  thy  care 
On  him  who    ears  the  secret  prayer 
Thy  helper  is  not  far  removed, 
But  comes  lo  aid  his  child  beloved. 


124  LOVE    THY    NEIGHBOR. 

Resign  to  him  thy  heart  and  will, 
Soon  shalt  thou  feel  consoled  and  still ; 
His  holy  word  thy  strength  shall  be, 
Shall  burst  thy  bonds,  and  set  thee  free. 


THE  SCHOOL. 

The  cross  has  ever  been  the  school 

To  make  the  christian  wise, 
Yet  leads  him  to  appear  a  fool 

In  worldly-blinded  eyes ; 
If  thou  wilt  learn  the  lesson  given, 

Obedient  to  his  word, 
Thou  shalt  become  a  child  of  heaven, 

Instructed  by  the  Lord. 


LOVE  THY  NEIGHBOR. 

With  compassion  and  with  love, 
Behold  thy  neighbour  in  distress, — 

An  equal  child  of  God  above, 

Though  press'd  with  want  and  wretchedness. 

The  great  Provider,  by  thy  hand, 

These  poor  opprcst  from  want  would  free ; 

Dare  not  his  providence  withstand, 
Lest  he  should  cease  to  care  for  thee. 


THE    FAREWELL.  125 

THE  SAVIOUR'S  VOICE 

If  without  our  heavenly  Guide 

We  venture  on  life's  flowing  tide, 

What  wonder  if,  by  tempests  tost, 

Our  little  shatter'd  bark  be  lost ! 

O  let  us,  then,  his  aid  entreat, — 

Humbly  waiting  at  his  feet, 

His  ever-sacred  voice  to  hear, 

Which  speaks  in  accents  soft  and  clear, 

<{  Who  follows  Me  through  cross  and  strife. 

Shall  surely  have  the  Light  of  Life." 


THE  WAY  TO  CONQUER. 

Faithful  on  the  watch  to  stand, 


Waiting  for  the  Chief's  command, 
Wherever  thou  canst  safely  see 
The  motions  of  the  enemy  ; 
When  he  comes  on  with  fearful  stride, 
Keeping  to  thy  Captain's  side, 
Not  daring  to  unsheath  the  sword 
Till  he  shall  give  th'  important  word  ; 
His  word  shall  make  the  foe  retreat, 
Or  crush  his  power  beneath  thy  feet. 


THE  FAREWELL. 

The  Saviour's  banner  is  unfurl'd 
For  all  who  love  his  name  ; 


126  THE    FAREWELL, 

Wherever  scatter'd  through  the  world, 
These  still  his  power  proclaim. 

Let  us  listen  to  his  call, 

Let  us  follow  Him  through  all. 

Then,  however  far  removed, 
In  Him  we  shall  unite, — 

Sing  praises  to  our  best  beloved, 
And  meet  in  realms  of  light. 


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